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MEMOIR 



MRS. HETTA L. WARD, 



SELECTIONS FROM HER WRITINGS. 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY T. R. MARVIN 
1843. 






5 A* 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, 

By T. R. Marvin, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of 

Massachusetts. 



This little volume is printed exclusively 
for private circulation among the friends 
of the deceased. 



MEMOIR 



The second Sabbath after the decease of 
Mrs. Ward, her husband preached to his con- 
gregation a sermon, in which he attempted to 
portray some of the prominent traits of her 
character. A general desire for its publication 
having been expressed by those who heard 
it, he was requested to furnish a copy for 
the press. In conversation with those who 
made this request it was suggested that a brief 
sketch of her early life to precede the sermon, 
and some extracts from her writings to follow 
it, would probably constitute a more acceptable 
publication, and that suggestion having been 
approved, it has accordingly been followed. A 
letter was addressed to her mother with the 
request that she would commit to paper her 
recollections of the early life of her daughter. 
This she has done in a letter addressed to Mr. 
1 



Ward. Extracts from Mrs. Ward's writings 
and letters might easily have been multiplied 
so as to swell this volume to many times its 
present size, but it was not thought advisable 
to do it. The work is prepared and printed not 
for the public, but for mourning relatives and 
sympathizing friends, as a slight memorial of a 
dearly beloved one who in the early summer of 
life has faded from the earth, but whose mem- 
ory all who knew her, and those most, who 
knew her best, delight to cherish. 



LETTER FROM HER MOTHER TO MR. WARD. 

South Berwick, Feb. 14, 1843. 

Amidst the daily duties and cares of my 
family, I find it almost impossible to concentrate 
my thoughts so as to gratify your wishes by 
giving you that minute account which I know 
you desire to possess of the early character of 
our beloved Hetta. Such facts, however, as 
occur to my mind I will endeavor to give you. 

Hetta Lord Hayes was born April 10, 1815. 
She evinced, from early childhood, a sweet, 
docile disposition, capable of receiving any im- 
pression. She was ardent and affectionate, her 
heart overflowing with love and tenderness to 



her parents, brothers and sisters, and it might 
be said, to all created things. She was always 
obedient, and never known to act contrary to 
the wishes of her parents. She was taught to 
read when she was about four years of age, 
and she became immediately interested in such 
books as were placed in her hands. This to me 
was a most delightful period of her life. Whether 
engaged at my needle, or attending other do- 
mestic duties, she was ever by my side, and her 
cheerful prattle and numberless questions in- 
terested and surprized me. She soon acquired 
a fondness for poetry and such works of imagi- 
nation as might be perused without injury. 
Hetta never took pleasure in the sports and 
recreations of children. Not that she did not 
sympathize with them in their joys and sorrows. 
This she did in a remarkable degree, and was 
ever ready to communicate happiness when- 
ever it was in her power to do it, but her 
pleasures were of a different kind. Her mind, 
from childhood, was interested in religious truth. 
I cannot recollect the time when she did not 
seem to love and reverence her Heavenly 
Father. At this early period she sought to be 
made acquainted with the doctrines of the 
Bible, and would listen with fixed attention 
whenever those subjects were discussed. Her 



8 

maternal grand-mother, to whom she was ever 
strongly attached, took great delight in observ- 
ing this indication of early piety, and would 
converse with her not only with a view to her 
instruction, but to observe the ever varying ex- 
pression of her intelligent countenance. She 
would say that she could compare Hetta's face 
to nothing but a dark lantern. When her mind 
is uninterested, her face is like the lantern ob- 
scured ; but when excited, intelligence beams 
from her eyes, and her face shines like the 
lantern when it sheds around its unobstructed 
rays. 

Hetta was a true lover of nature. Nothing 
afforded her such exquisite pleasure as a ramble 
through the woods with her eldest brother, 
whose taste was like her own, in admiring all 
that was beautiful and curious. Together they 
would cull the wild flowers, search for the 
minerals, and return delighted, loaded with 
their treasures. Her fondness for flowers con- 
tinued through life, and led her to study them 
scientifically. It could not but be observed 
that this dear child loved God in all his works. 
The picteresque scenery about her own home 
ever gave her the utmost pleasure. But nothing 
in nature kindled in her heart such sublime 
enthusiasm as the autumnal sunset scene as 



viewed from our house. No one that on such 
an occasion witnessed her strong emotions and 
the glow of delight that irradiated her counte- 
nance, could fail to sympathize with her, and 
find his own feelings purified and exalted. So 
attached did she become to the natural objects 
which she had been accustomed to see in her 
childhood, that she wept at the removal of some 
old oaks, as though some dear friend had been 
torn from her. This tenderness extended to all 
animals. Even the smallest insect she would 
save from pain if it was in her power, and 
would walk carefully round an ant mound rather 
than destroy it. This feeling was not that 
sickening sentimentality which is so frequently 
observed, but was owing to the deep tenderness 
of her heart, as she felt that 

"The poor beetle that we tread upon, 
In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great 
As when a giant dies." 

Her love of the beautiful was manifested in 
works of art. She early displayed a fondness 
for drawing, and for various kinds of ornamental 
work, and if she had possessed the time, would 
have excelled in those accomplishments. But 
being the oldest daughter of a large family, we 
thought that her time had better be devoted to 



10 

those pursuits which would prepare her for 
greater usefulness. Her feelings were so ardent, 
and her imagination so vivid, that her father 
and myself were desirous that her mind should 
be disciplined by a course of mathematical 
studies. Even Cowper, Milton, Shakspeare, 
and other favorite books had to be laid aside for 
severer studies. This was a trial to her and 
she remonstrated. But I urged upon her the 
necessity of such a course, and advised her not 
to bestow her time upon any thing that was not 
immediately connected with the plan that had 
been marked out for her, and that would best 
qualify her for future usefulness. I remarked 
to her that I had suffered through life for the 
want of this mental discipline, and that if she 
loved her mother, she would comply with her 
wishes. In this she showed that unhesitating 
obedience, and sweet, yielding spirit, which, 
while under my care, so strongly marked her 
character. I was always unwilling that her 
pride should be encouraged by a reference to 
mere literary distinction, but that her aim should 
be to qualify herself to act the part of a sensi- 
ble, practical, useful Christian. In these views 
I was greatly assisted by the kindness of her 

aunt, Mrs. A L , of Portsmouth, N. H., 

a lady of rare intellectual cultivation, and pos- 



11 

sessmg great religious excellence. She invited 
Hetta to make her a visit, during which she 
attended an excellent school in that place, and 
at the age of twelve, engaged in a course of 
mathematical studies, which, with others, were 
calculated to bring forth the energy of her 
mind, and proved a sedative to her imagination. 
She was carefully watched over by this respect- 
ed and beloved friend, until sickness, occasioned 
by over excitement in preparing for an exami- 
nation, obliged us to remove her home. After 
her health was restored, she attended the acade- 
my in her native place, where she had a most 
favorable opportunity of prosecuting her studies 
under superior teachers, who labored not only 
for her intellectual but moral advancement, and 
by whom she was justly appreciated for the 
docility, readiness and ardor with which she 
sought to improve by their instructions. She 
became as much interested in the study of the 
exact sciences as in works of the imagination, 
making herself acquainted with the higher 
branches of Mathematics, Algebra, Geometry, 
&c. 

In 1830, after much prayerful consideration, 
she, with a number of young ladies her school- 
mates, made a public profession of religion ; in 
which profession she walked carefully and de- 



12 

votedly, until, as we trust, she was taken to 
join " the general assembly in heaven." 

At the age of sixteen, she attended Miss 
Grant's Seminary at Ipswich, Mass., and was 
there distinguished for the superiority of her 
attainments. After that period her time was 
employed in attention to domestic duties, and 
in such a course of reading and study as would 
qualify her for the station she was about to 
enter upon as a minister's wife. How she dis- 
charged the duties of her station, you, my dear 
son, who were the partner of her joys and 
sorrows, and the beloved ones who knew her 
most in that situation, can best testify. 

I am aware that much of a mother's partiality 
and fondness may be mingled with this brief 
sketch. It has not been in my power to give, 
and I know you could not expect, a very par- 
ticular detail of facts, as I have nothing to assist 
me but my own recollection. But if what I 
have written will be of assistance in bringing 
forward any thing that you did not before know, 
the object of my writing will be accomplished. 

But I cannot close my letter without dwelling 
still longer upon a subject so dear to us both. 
Hetta was to me not only a beloved child, but 
ever a dear companion and friend. You knew 
the perfect confidence that existed between us, 



13 

and how much my happiness was interwoven 
with hers. You can then conceive what must 
have been the anxiety and suspense I endured 
when I was last on my way to your house. I 
feared, as I came near, that I should see some- 
thing in the external appearance of things that 
would tell me all was over ; and I experienced 
the most sensible relief when I met you and 
you told me she was more comfortable. I en- 
tered her chamber, and oh, how beautiful, how 
calm, how self-possessed she appeared. Never 
to my latest moment shall I forget the expression 
of her intelligent countenance. " Dear mother," 
she said, " I fear that I have given you trouble 
to cause you so soon to come again to see me, 
but I thought you would wish to be with me." 
I assured her that nothing could give me more 
happiness than to be with her, and that I would 
do all that I could for her comfort. She seemed 
very grateful and happy. After asking her 
some questions with regard to her disease, I 
kneeled down by her side and inquired respect- 
ing the exercises of her mind. " I have given 
all up," she said, "and am in a waiting state 
for life or death. My physician assures me that 
unless there is a change, I cannot live many 
days." I told her that she appeared better than 
I expected to see her, and I could not but hope 



14 

she would recover. She replied, " Do not flatter 
yourself too much. God will do right. I love 
to dwell upon his attributes. I rejoice in his 
sovereignty." In reply to some question, she 
said, " I have not those joyful feelings that 
some express ; but pray for me that my faith in 
Christ may be strengthened." In the course of 
conversation at that time, when speaking of our 
family, she remarked, " we have been favored 
with health and prosperity a long time. You 
must expect a change. And if it please God 
that I should be the first that is taken, I am 
willing, if my death can be the means of greater 
good in the family than that of any other of 
the members." She expressed the strongest 
desire that all the family might be benefitted by 
her death, and that every heart might be led 
to God. But I cannot go on to describe the 
disappointment of our hopes and the last dis- 
tressing scene. I must forbear. 

Remember me to those dear friends that so 
kindly endeavored to administer relief to my 
beloved child, and mingled their tears with ours. 
May the God of mercy sustain them when laid 
on their beds of languishing and death. 

When I reflect upon your loss • that your 
cherished friend, the being that softened all 
your cares by her devoted affection — the mother 



15 

of those dear children, and one so well qualified 
to guide and instruct them, has been taken from 
you ; my heart sickens at the thought, and I am 
disposed to ask, Why is it so ? But I desire to 
be enabled to wipe away the tears, to hush 
every murmuring thought, to be still, and to 
say, " even though He slay me, yet will I trust 
in Him." 

Ever your friend and affectionate mother, 

Susan Hayes. 



The following portraiture of Mrs. Ward's 
character is the substance of the first sermon 
which, after her decease, her husband preached 
to his people. 

Love is the grand fountain of pure and per- 
manent felicity. No one can fasten his love 
upon a worthy object and not at the same time 
experience some of the sweetest joys of life. 
And if we have found a friend of distinguished 
excellence, and for years rejoiced with that 
friend in the mutual interchange of social sen- 
timents and warm affections, it is natural, when 
death intervenes and separates us from the dear 
object of our love, to contemplate the virtues 
and worth of " the loved and lost," and seek 



16 

some alleviation of our bitter grief in rehearsing 
them to our sympathizing acquaintances. And 
the contemplation of excellence is always adapt- 
ed to improve the character. We feel much 
more strongly urged to the attainment of a 
worthy and exalted character when we see such 
an one manifested in the life of a fellow being, 
than when the various virtues which compose 
that character are abstractly presented before us. 
It may not therefore be amiss for me to follow, 
at this time, the dictates of my own feelings, 
and occupy your attention for a few moments 
with a faint view of the character of one who 
was justly dear to me, but whom God has, in 
his holy providence, recently snatched away 
from my side, and laid among the dead. I wish 
not to eulogize her. Praise was never an object 
of her seeking, and when it was expressed in 
her hearing, she has been known to say, that 
" she felt pained to find how much more highly, 
as she thought, her friends esteemed her than 
she deserved." In what I may say I shall not 
pretend to be wholly exempt from every thing 
like partiality for a beloved wife, but it will be 
my object to confine my statements to well 
known facts, and to speak only of such elements 
of character as have been observed and men- 
tioned by others as well as myself. The 



17 

First characteristic which I would notice and 
which she possessed in an eminent degree is, 
an ardent love of truth. On the love of truth 
all progress in knowledge, at least all rapid and. 
extensive progress mainly depends. When it is 
accompanied with clear and strong powers of 
mind, it generally issues in the formation of a 
high intellectual character. It was truth, as 
such, that she loved. She cared little from 
what source it came, or through what medium 
it was obtained, if it was only truth she rested 
and feasted on it. 

She possessed great powers of abstraction, so 
that when reading or thinking she was wholly 
absorbed, and no noise around her would with- 
draw or distract her attention. It was often 
necessary to speak to her more than once before 
her mind could be recalled from its theme of 
meditation. When studying a subject she could 
never rest satisfied with uncertain and shadowy 
views of it. She pursued it till she understood 
it, and till her conceptions of it became clear 
and distinct. 

Her mind was mathematical and logical. 
After she was about twelve years of age, she 
always manifested a strong predilection for the 
severer branches of study. She saw with great 
clearness the point of an argument, and was 
2 



18 

quick to distinguish between sophistry and 
logical reasoning. 

She loved to trace the workings of the human 
mind and examine and classify the powers and 
operations of that curious machine. Those 
young ladies in this place whom, of her own 
accord, she invited to attend on her instructions 
in intellectual philosophy, will bear witness that 
she had obtained uncommonly clear views of 
the operations of the human mind, and that she 
possessed a very happy faculty of communicating 
her views to others. 

She had a strong passion for natural history, 
and found great delight in reading works on 
geology, mineralogy, botany, and other kindred 
branches of study. Such reading was rather 
an amusement than effort, and she was accus- 
tomed to distinguish by their scientific names 
and marks the objects of nature that came under 
her daily observation. The principles of chem- 
istry were not only familiar to her mind, but 
she made a constant practical application of 
them in her domestic operations. 

She read with avidity the news of the day, 
and felt a deep interest in the movements of 
associated bodies, whether political, literary, 
humane, or religious. She watched these 
movements with open eyes, and loved to follow 



19 

out, in her own mind, their probable conse- 
quences on the welfare of human society. 

But her favorite study was theology. From 
early childhood she seemed to find her highest 
pleasure in reading and conversing about the 
fundamental doctrines of the gospel. Every 
new idea she obtained on these important doc- 
trines, appeared to afford her peculiar delight. 
She read the works of such writers as Butler, 
Bellamy, and Edwards, with all the excited 
interest that some feel in reading a novel. And 
her conceptions of the character and government 
of God became unusually large and luminous. 
No one could converse with her on the cardinal 
doctrines of religion, or even hear her remarks 
and prayers in the female weekly religious 
meetings, without receiving the impression that 
she was familiar, to an extent very uncommon 
for one of her years, with the great system of 
the divine administration. And she gained all 
this kuowledge because to investigate truth was 
her delight. It was more to her than her ne- 
cessary food. She always found higher pleasure 
in nurturing the mind than the body. And 
hence her mind became too strong for the frail 
tenement it inhabited, and at last wore it out. 

2. Another of her characteristics was a keen 
perception and ardent love of beauty. Our 



20 

Creator has endowed us with capacities for ap- 
preciating and enjoying whatever is beautiful 
and lovely. He has scattered objects of beauty 
in exhaustless profusion around us, and spread 
a covering of beauty over all his works. He 
might have made a world without flowers to 
adorn it ; or changing, mingled colors to variegate 
and beautify it. But he intended we should 
find pleasure in beholding the beauties of his 
works. And, if we may trust to the scriptural 
descriptions of the heavenly world, he intends 
that this pleasure shall there be carried to its 
utmost height. Now she was quick to perceive 
and enjoy the beauties of nature. When a 
child, such was her love of flowers, that as soon 
as the snows began to fade from the ground in 
the spring, she would begin her rambles through 
the fields and woods in search of violets and 
anemones. She delighted to tend and cultivate 
flowers, though the cares of a growing family 
forbade her bestowing much time or attention 
upon them. Still wherever she saw them, they 
arforded her an exquisite pleasure. She beheld 
in them the skill and goodness of the Divine 
hand. 

Her taste was observable also in her dress, 
which, though not expensive or showy, was 
always arranged with neatness and elegance, 



21 

It was ever with her a matter of principle, to 
conform in dress to what she deemed becoming 
for the wife of a clergyman. 

Her perception and love of beauty were ap- 
parent in the whole arrangement of her house 
and table. Though every thing in the house — 
the materials which she had to work with — 
were far from extravagant and even plain and 
simple, yet she knew how to give an air to all 
her domestic arrangements, and with the merest 
trifles would make beauty spring up as by en- 
chantment around her. 

She was withal a natural painter, and could 
she have had leisure to cultivate her talents for 
drawing, would have become a superior artist. 
She did not, in painting, usually copy from 
others, but she formed original designs, and 
sketched with her pencil the striking and beau- 
tiful conceptions of her own mind. 

Her perception and love of beauty were ap- 
parent in her reading. She observed and ap- 
preciated the elegant passages to be found in 
the authors she perused, whether the elegance 
pertained to the thought or expression. She 
was passionately fond of poetry, and marked 
her favorite passages, and read them again and 
again with increasing pleasure. 

But beauty of character was her chief delight, 
2# 



22 

and wherever she saw a lovely, consistent, har- 
monious character, it attracted her warmest 
admiration. She seemed to be thus fitted to 
find her highest happiness only in the presence 
and society of the beautiful and good. And 
we hope she has now gone where her eyes will 
gaze unceasingly on unconceived and ineffable 
beauty, and where she will enjoy forever all 
the loveliness of object and character that 
heaven can yield. 

3. Another element of her character was ha- 
bitual cheerfulness of temper. Her cheerfulness 
might have been in part the result of her love 
of beauty. She saw whatever was lovely in 
nature and in man, and rejoiced in what she 
saw. It was in part owing also to her dispo- 
sition to look at every thing rather on its sunny 
than cloudy side. Her life had been one of 
constant prosperity and peace and joy, and the 
future seemed as bright as the present and the 
past. She used, indeed, sometimes to say, that 
" she enjoyed so much and so uninterrupted 
happiness that she did not know but she had 
reason to fear that she was wanting in one of 
the marks of the child of God, for ' whom the 
Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every 
son whom he receiveth.' " At other times she 
would say that " she feared there were troubles 



23 

in store for her, and that they would all come 
together." She feared because she was so uni- 
formly happy, though this fear did not disturb 
the calm cheerfulness of her mind. She feared, 
but her fear was unfounded. God saw fit, in 
his wisdom, to favor her with a happy life, and 
then receive her, as we hope, to a still more 
happy eternity. 

The great secret, however, of her cheerful 
temper is to be found in her perfect confidence 
in the excellence of the divine plans and the 
rectitude of the divine providence. She was 
cheerful and happy because she saw all things 
ordered by a wisdom that never errs, and guided 
by a power strong enough to accomplish every 
purpose of infinite love. And the peace and 
joy thus diffused through her heart shone bril- 
liantly on her countenance. They lighted up 
her face with radiant smiles, and made her the 
dispenser of cheerful happiness to all around 
her. 

4. Another of her characteristics was simple, 
open-hearted frankness. There was nothing 
like deception in the composition of her char- 
acter. The law of truth was always on her 
lips. Speaking once of the habit into which 
children sometimes fall of telling lies, she re- 
marked that "she could not conceive why it 



24 

should be so, as she could not remember of ever 
telling but one lie in her childhood, and that, 
though never discovered, cost her so much 
anguish that she felt no disposition to tell 
another." She did not employ one form of 
speech to a person's face, and another behind 
his back. She used no compliments for the 
sake of pleasing, but uttered fully and freely 
her feelings as they arose. Her countenance 
was a perfect index of her soul. There was no 
smile for a neighbor or acquaintance on her 
cheek unless it was reflected from her heart. 
Her face was, indeed, sometimes said, by her 
friends, to be a real tell-tale, as it expressed so 
distinctly what was passing in her mind. She 
entertained no feelings which she was not ready 
to acknowledge, or opinions which she would 
not frankly avow. And if sentiments or feelings 
which were at variance from her own, were 
expressed in her presence by others, she was 
always prepared to signify her dissent, and to 
present her reasons for differing from those with 
whom she was conversing. It might be thought 
that such a course would at times beget opposi- 
tion or appear forward and unbecoming ; but she 
was so evidently actuated by a love for truth and 
for the diffusion of truth, that no one was ever 
known to take offence. It was plain that she 



25 

proposed and defended her opinions and senti- 
ments, not because she regarded them as her 
own. but because she viewed them to be essen- 
tial truth. This open frankness, this childlike 
simplicity, gave a peculiar charm to her char- 
acter, and attracted the love and confidence of 
all her friends and acquaintance. 

5. Another of her characteristics was strong 
feelings of benevolence towards all the creatures 
of God. This was the first peculiar element of 
her Christian character. Her heart was full of 
kindness and love to every living thing. She- 
cherished the strongest attachment to her rela- 
tives and friends. And her love was not a 
fruitless feeling. It prompted her to a constant 
course of effort to please those she loved, and 
promote their good. In the various relations of 
life which she sustained, she manifested her 
love by acts of kindness and duty towards all 
those whom she could in any way comfort or 
aid. 

As a daughter, she was affectionate and obe- 
dient. It has been a frequent remark of her 
father that " she never did any thing, during 
her continuance in his family, to call for reproof 
or correction from him. She never did any 
thing to leave on his mind an unpleasant 
recollection." And with her mother, she from 



26 

a child associated more as a companion than 
daughter. The grand-mother, mother and 
daughter were all friends, and though composed 
of three generations, yet they seemed to feel 
and converse together as equals. Mrs. Ward 
has often said that from early childhood she 
found it a rich treat to sit with her grand-mother 
and mother and converse on religious subjects ; 
and that she derived far more real pleasure from 
their society than from that of her equals in age. 
She was extremely cautious of injuring the 
feelings of her parents, and was ever consulting 
their wishes and welfare. 

As a sister she was kind and obliging. She 
was ever ready to make personal sacrifices her- 
self, and forego her own pleasure, in order to 
gratify her brothers or sisters. She was anxious 
for their good, and, as an elder sister, did all in 
her power, by instruction and advice, to improve 
their character and increase their usefulness in 
the world. She was willing to bear any suf- 
ferings herself if her sufferings could only benefit 
them. About a week before her decease, when 
speaking of them, she said, " there are twelve of 
us children, and it was scarcely to be expected 
that we should all have been spared so long. 
In the common course of providence it is 
probable that some of us will soon die. Some 



27 

one must die first, and I have been thinking 
that perhaps it would be better that it should be 
myself than any other of our number, and if I 
am called away, I hope my death may be the 
means of their spiritual good." She spoke with 
uncommon feeling of her eldest brother with 
whom she had more especially associated in her 
childhood, and for whom she had always 
cherished the tenderest love, and she expressed 
the strongest desires that her death might exert 
a favorable influence on his character. And of 
a younger brother who had spent the past year 
in our family, and received instruction and 
advice from her lips, she said, " I have endeav- 
ored to be faithful to him, and, if I am taken 
away, I cannot but hope my death may be the 
means of his conversion." Not only during her 
last illness, but in fact through her whole life, 
she manifested the deepest interest in the wel- 
fare of all her brothers and sisters. She sympa- 
thized with them in all their joys and sorrows, 
and her prayers continually ascended to the 
mercy seat in their behalf. 

As a wife she was tender, affectionate and 
confiding. Her face always beamed upon me 
with a smile of love. She was ever ready to 
labor and toil for my comfort. She thought no 
sacrifices too great, no exertions of hers too 



28 

severe, if she might thereby lighten my load of 
care. I doubt not she Avould readily have given 
up even her own life for my welfare. She felt 
any efforts which she might make for my com- 
fort to be amply repaid by a word or smile of 
approbation and love. She encouraged me in 
all my efforts of usefulness. She cheered and 
comforted me in all my cares and trials and 
labors, and my " heart safely trusted in her." 
She was all that a wife could be, — too rich a 
blessing to be long continued. She has gone, 
and left me to mourn alone. 

" So fades the lovely blooming flower, 
Sweet smiling solace of an hour, 
So soon our transient comforts fly 
And pleasures onlj bloom to die.' 5 

As a mother she was watchful, sympathizing 
and kind. She had her eye open to observe, and 
her hand open to supply the bodily wants of her 
children. She cherished towards them the 
tenderest love. She made it a prime object to 
cultivate their affections, — to secure their love, 
and render them obliging and affectionate to 
each other. She emphatically governed them 
by the law of love. If they were inclined to 
disobey her, she put to them the question, 
" don't you love your mother ? " and this was 
enough to soften and subdue them. She en- 



29 

deavored to improve their intellectual and moral 
character. Words of instruction were continu- 
ally dropping from her lips. And the truths 
she aimed to communicate were always dressed 
in a garb so attractive that all her children 
would, at any time, prefer rather to sit around 
her and hear her instructions, than engage in 
any sports or pastime. She taught them the 
great principles of Christianity in simple lan- 
guage and with apt illustrations, and thus 
impressed on their young and ductile minds 
those truths that make wise unto salvation. 
And she fully believed, and she acted on the 
belief, that, " train up a child in the way he 
should go, and when he is old he will not 
depart from it." 

As a member of this church and connected 
with this parish she was deeply solicitous for 
your good. The constant growth of her family 
prevented her from being much abroad, but she 
often expressed the desire that she could go out 
more and mingle more with the inhabitants of 
the place. She felt a special interest in the 
welfare of the young ladies and of the children 
here, and was ever ready to exert herself for 
their good. The instructions and admonitions 
she has given them will, I presume, never be 
forgotten. As an indication of the interest she 
3 



30 

felt in the welfare of this church and society, I 
can state the fact that the inquiry has often 
fallen from her lips, " Is there not something 
more than we are now doing that we can do for 
the good of this people ? " Her attachment to 
her friends and acquaintances here was exceed- 
ingly strong, and whenever any thing has been 
said to her, by persons from abroad, in respect 
to leaving this place, the substance of her reply 
has been, " I love the people of Abington, I find 
I love them more and more the longer I live 
with them, and I do not feel, while they wish 
us to remain, as if I could consent to leave 
them. I am contented and happy there, and 
am perfectly willing to live and die there." 
And she has had her wish. She has lived 
among you, and her remains now sleep in your 
tomb. And oh, may her solicitude and prayers 
for your welfare secure for you the choicest 
blessings that Heaven can bestow. 

But her sympathy and love were not confined 
to this place. She had a heart large enough to 
take in her country and the world of mankind. 
She felt for all the children of want and wo 
wherever on the face of the earth they might be 
found. She was warmly interested in all the 
benevolent and philanthropic societies of the 
day. Her heart was alive to every project for 



31 

alleviating human misery, or spreading among 
the ignorant and perishing the light and bles- 
sings of the gospel of peace. Her benevolent 
regards were as broad as the wants of the 
creatines of God. She never wished ill to any 
living being. She never had an enemy. She 
loved every body and every living thing, and 
sought to diffuse happiness as wide as her 
influence extended. Her life was thus a prac- 
tical illustration of the great law, " Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself." 

6. But her crowning virtue was calm, un- 
wavering confidence in God — in his character 
and government. This — viz : strong faith in 
God — was the second peculiar element of her 
Christian character. She never experienced 
those high joys or deep depressions which 
characterize some professors of religion. Her 
religion was calm and peaceful. No time can 
be definitely specified when she could say that 
she first exercised love to God. From a child 
she seemed to find pleasure in contemplating 
God and his doings, his character and law. 
From a child she apparently preferred religious 
conversation and religious society to all other. 
From a child she appeared to manifest a subdued 
and chastened spirit. Her religious character 
however became more marked and confirmed 



32 

when she was about fourteen years of age, and 
about a year afterwards she made a public 
profession of her faith in Christ. By reading 
and meditation, she obtained very lucid and 
expanded views of the attributes, especially the 
justice of God, and found great satisfaction in 
the thought that he reigned and would reign 
and govern and guide all her affairs, and all the 
affairs of the universe, so as to secure the 
highest possible good. She felt herself to be a 
great sinner, saw the necessity and beauty of 
the plan of atonement by Jesus Christ, and 
could say, 

" Other refuge have I none, 

Hangs my helpless sou] on Thee, 
Leave, ah, leave me not alone, 
Still support and comfort me." 

But her prevailing religious sentiment was 
that of reverence for the character of God, and 
calm, confident reliance on his wisdom, power 
and love. She felt that He would do all things 
right. " I don't know," she said, at one time 
during her last sickness, and when she deemed 
herself near her end, " I don't know as I am a 
child of God. The heart is deceitful, and I 
may be deceived and think myself a Christian 
when I am not ; but then," she added, " if God 



33 

should cast me off, I think I should still wish 
to adore and praise him. It would be all right." 
When asked if she did not wish to recover, she 
replied, " I have some desire to live, but still I 
would not for worlds wish the result to be dif- 
ferent from what God may see best to ordain." 
Her children were mentioned, and the inquiry 
was made, " Do you not feel anxious on their 
account ? " and her answer was, " No ; I have 
consecrated them to God, and I fully believe he 
will take care of them and bring them into his 
fold." Her faith in the covenant promises of 
God in respect to her children, may be seen in 
a short and simple piece of poetry, which she 
composed some years ago when her first child 
was a babe and she was hushing it to sleep on 
her bosom. It is entitled, " a Lullaby to Wil- 
liam," and expresses, with sweet simplicity, her 
confidence in the promise of God to believers, 
to be a God to them and their seed after them. 
It reads thus : 

" Hush, dearest love, and take thy rest, 
Let me not hear thy plaintive cry, 
Repose upon thy mother's breast, 
'Tis she that sings thy lullaby. 

Hush, sweetest boy, why shouldst thou weep ! 

I'm sure thou hast no cause to sigh, 
For here there is a fountain deep 

Of love for thee,— so lullaby. 

3* 



34 

Be quiet, child, and then my prayer 

Shall rise for thee to God on high ; 
Full well He knows the mother's care, 

And He '11 protect thee. Lullaby. 

He 'II thee protect, for thou art given 

To Him who did for sinners die ; 
Sure He will keep and raise to heaven 

What is His own, — so lullaby. 

' I'll be a God to thee and thine,' 

Was said by Him who cannot lie 5 
I'll trust the promise so divine 
From our kind Father. Lullaby. 

And Thou, whose words are hope and joy, 

Bidding foreboding fears to fly, 
Oh, give me grace to guide my boy 

To Thee and heaven. Babe ! lullaby." 

With the same unshaken confidence she in- 
trusted her friends and her own soul to the 
hands of a faithful Creator. She felt that no 
injustice would be done them or her by God — 
that whatever he might ordain would be just 
and righteous altogether — and she could rejoice 
that he would reign and do all things well. 

I have drawn but a faint outline of her char- 
acter. Still enough has been said to show that 
she possessed uncommon excellencies of mind 
and heart, and shone as a bright planet in the 
sphere in which she moved. " She was gifted 
and whole-souled." She was lovely and beloved 



35 

on earth, her Christian virtues shed a grace 
and beauty over all her actions, and we fondly 
hoped she would be spared to adorn her station 
and do good in the world. But God had other 
designs. He saw she was more needed in an- 
other portion of his kingdom, and he therefore 
took her out of the world. But we cherish the 
belief that 

" In a brighter, purer sphere, 
Beyond the sunless tomb, 
The virtues that have charmed us here, 
In fadeless life shall bloom." 

She has left a sweet memorial behind her. 
Her epitaph is written on the hearts of all who 
knew her ; and if we cherish that love to man 
and faith in God, which we cannot but believe 
she cherished, we shall soon behold her in 
heaven — the final home of the pure and good, 
where pious friends all meet to part no more 
forever. 



36 



REMINISCENCES OF MRS. WARD, FROM THE PEN 
OF ONE OF HER SCHOOL-MATES. 

The earliest recollections of this dear friend 
of my school days, are of the most pleasing 
character. Long will be remembered her sweet 
deportment towards the members of the semi- 
nary during the summer of 1832. It was ever 
her delight to assist those whose advantages 
had been limited, to speak an encouraging 
word to the diffident, and to win the stranger's 
heart by the voice of kindness. Here was the 
secret of that weight of influence she continu- 
ally exerted over the minds of others. What 
tender and pleasing associations are connected 
with that institution of learning. How many 
young ladies can bear testimony to the many 
interesting conversations and pleasant debates 
which were held there. 

In one of these interviews, the character of 
God was the theme — a theme which Miss 
Hayes's enlarged mind ever delighted to con- 
template — and as she proceeded to descant on 
the divine attributes, each one of us felt more 
than ever the infinite purity of His nature and 
the fearful consequences of sin. 

At another time pride was the topic of con- 



37 

versation. I recollect some one of us remarked, 
that in our opinion some pride was absolutely 
necessary. She took the negative. With that 
ardor and skill in reasoning, peculiar to herself, 
she proved conclusively that pride, in any form 
and in the least degree, is positively sinful ; 
that we ought to have sufficient self-respect 
surely, but we ought to strive to be as free from 
pride as those swift-winged messengers of spot- 
less purity, who ever wait to obey the high 
mandates of the Eternal. 

Miss Hayes had great reverence for the Sab- 
bath. She used to say, " We should do noth- 
ing on the Sabbath which might have been 
done on Saturday or might be deferred till Mon- 
day." Her example, in making all preparations 
for holy time on Saturday, had great influence 
on her school-mates, and we trust it will ever 
be followed by those who knew and loved her. 

" Any thing that is worth doing at all is 
worth doing well." How many a careless girl 
has learnt the art of pains-taking, from hearing 
this maxim oft repeated by Miss Hayes. 



EXTRACTS FROM HER WRITINGS. 



EXTRACTS. 



ON EARLY DEATH. 
Written at the age of 13. May 23, 1828. 

How often is it the case that those who seem 
most fit to live, are chosen to die ; — that the 
fairest, loveliest flowers are culled, those which 
promised to be bright lights to the world , and 
ornaments to society. For such we mourn. 
But should we grieve that they thus early have 
found their rest ? — that they thus early have 
burst the chains which bound them to the earth, 
and so soon have left the cares, perplexities and 
troubles incident to the career of mortals ? — that 
they have passed the only bar which separated 
them from their God ? Ought we not rather to 
rejoice that they so soon have found eternal 
rest? Bat even if we think it a mysterious 
providence, we must recollect that our Heavenly 
Father hath promised to overrule all things for 
good to those who love him. We shall not see 
4 



42 

again on earth the one we loved, but if we are 
sure that the bud so fresh, so fair, will bloom 
above " in far surpassing loveliness," why 
should we grieve ? It may have left us, but it 
has found a company of saints and angels, of 
redeemed spirits. It has left the comparatively 
trifling occupations of this life, which but for a 
while can give pleasure, to spend an eternity of 
bliss in singing " loud anthems of praise to Him 
who sitteth upon the throne and to the Lamb." 
What a glorious change for such happy spirits 
to leave this world of wickedness and wo, and 
enter upon and participate in heavenly happi- 
ness, — " to throw off this mortal and put on 
immortality." It can be nothing but selfishness 
which would make us wish to detain them in 
this vale of tears — which would confine them 
still longer in their prison house of clay. 

The death of such may be a mercy not only 
to them, but to ourselves. Such events should 
lead us to examine our own hearts, to see if we 
are prepared to follow them to the grave. We 
know not, nor can we ever tell who the next 
victim of death may be, for this great destroyer 
can, in one instant, dispel the joyous smile of 
childhood, destroy the gaities of youth, or lay 
"the hoary head low in the dust." Since then 
we must die, should we not be prepared to meet 



43 

death ? Let us so live that when the dreaded 
hour arrives, it may be to us a joyful one, so 
that death may be divested of its sting, the 
grave of its victory. 



THE IMPORTANCE OF COMBINING RELIGIOUS WITH INTEL- 
LECTUAL EDUCATION. 

Feb. 18, 1829. 

The word education, taken in its widest 
sense, comprehends the expansion and develop- 
ment of the intellect, the regulation of the 
feelings, and the establishment of fixed moral 
and religious principle. And all education that 
does not comprehend these, we consider to be 
faulty, because the great end of culture, all must 
allow, is, to fit us for usefulness in life. Yet 
we are justified in saying that comparatively few 
consider this ; and, if we could look at the 
hidden, though powerful motives which impel 
those on who are climbing the rugged paths of 
science, we should probably find that few of 
these multitudes are actuated by Christian prin- 
ciple. Or, if we will but look into our own 
hearts, (and we can best judge of others by 
ourselves,) we shall probably find that our 
apparently best actions proceed oftener from 
pride and a desire of personal aggrandizement, 



44 

than from the more holy principles, love to God 
and love to man. 

Yet we are perfectly conscious that we are 
accountable beings, and that it is not for self 
alone we should live and act. We know also 
that we have influence, which influence is 
increased by education, and must be exerted in 
augmenting the amount either of happiness or 
misery upon earth. And we affirm that by a 
union of moral and intellectual education, we 
are best enabled to increase the enjoyment of 
our fellow creatures as well as our own. 

Religious education is the establishment of 
fixed moral and religious principles. It teaches 
us self denial, not that we may obtain the praise 
of man but of God. It forbids vice, not because 
evil is the consequence, but because it offends 
the law of Jehovah. It forbids us to glory in 
our own good works, but commands us to give 
God the glory, for through him we do all things. 
It commands us to admire the works of nature, 
not merely on account of their beauty or sub- 
limity, but because they are the works of a 
benevolent Being, and display his goodness, 
power, and wisdom. It requires us to be kind 
to our fellow men, not that they may repay our 
kindness, but because they are God's creatures, 
and he consults their happiness. 



45 

Intellectual education is the cultivation of the 
mind, including the reason, judgment, imagina- 
tion and taste. Those who aim at a merely 
intellectual education, strive to find a reason for 
all things, yet ascend not to the First Great 
Cause. They admire the works of nature, and 
love to trace out the uses of things ; but ask not, 
" Whose wisdom fitted them for these uses?" 
From a contemplation of the beautiful order of 
nature, they turn to themselves and admire their 
reason, which enables them to discover that 
order. They consider it perfect, and placing it- 
above all other things, fall down and worship it. 
In this frame of mind they turn to the Scriptures, 
but there they find mysteries — much that soars 
far above their really feeble comprehension, — 
and, angry that aught is too high for them, they 
cast the Bible to the ground and trample it 
under their feet. 

The great difference between a merely intel- 
lectual and religious education is, that, whereas 
the former exalts us in our own estimation, the 
latter inculcates humility as the only foundation 
upon which the beautiful and well proportioned 
fabric of true piety can be erected. Yet, 
although a religious education thus teaches 
humility, it is more lofty, more noble in purpose, 
more truly exalted, than a mere intellectual one 
4 * 



46 

which aims only to fit us for this life, for religion 
would also fit us for heaven. The follower of 
the one, makes the opinion of the world the 
mainspring of action, and labors and toils and 
strives for the applause of puny mortals. The 
follower of the other, gives up the world, cares 
not for its opinion while he is pursuing the 
straight and narrow path of duty. Heaven, the 
home of the just, is before him, upon that his 
eyes are fixed, and that is the prize he hopes to 
win. 

Thus we have contemplated separately a 
religious and a merely intellectual education. 
The former is of itself amiable. The latter, 
though at first interesting, we cannot but 
condemn. It is like a ship, beautiful and grand 
in appearance as it sails swiftly over the sea, but 
as we gaze and admire, we also fear and tremble, 
for we know that the ship though so beautiful, 
is destitute of a pilot, and consequently must 
soon be dashed upon the rocks, its crew must 
perish, and its treasure be consigned to the deep. 

From a religious education we know much 
happiness is derived, and we do not know of 
any misery. The person possessed of it loves 
God and man, and is happy in the exercise of 
his affections. He does not ask the meed of 
praise, and therefore is not disappointed though 



47 

he receives it not. His heart is set upon things 
above, rather than upon those below, so that, 
should some of his most sanguine expectations 
fail, he is not cast down. Do his friends 
become a prey to death ? He expects to meet 
them again in heaven. Thus their removal 
from this world adds another to the joys of 
heaven, and brightens his hopes for eternity. 
He has faith in God, and it is this which enables 
him to acquiesce almost joyfully in the most 
mysterious dispensations of Providence. When 
he looks upon God's works, though science has 
not unveiled to his view their beauties and 
wonders, yet he sees enough to lead him to 
praise the great Creator. When he casts his 
eye at night upon the heavens, and beholds the 
beautiful luminaries spangling the firmament, 
though he may never have dreamed that those 
myriads of stars are suns to other worlds, yet he 
blesses God for their light and beauty. 

The person whose intellect alone has been 
cultivated, aside from the pleasure of possessing 
knowledge, (which is undoubtedly great,) derives 
enjoyment from the exercise of the mind. He 
loves to trace out the relations in which things 
stand to each other, to discover cause and effect, 
and thus to open a new world upon his mind. 
If for instance he should turn his eye upon the 



48 

mighty mass of waters, rolling billow upon 
billow with irresistible force, his mind would be 
elevated by the view, though not to Him who 
alone can control the wind and waves, who hath 
set bounds to the ocean, and hath said, " thus 
far shalt thou go, and no farther." But his 
mind is so constituted, that sublime objects in 
nature fill his soul with indescribable emotions. 
He stretches his vision far as it can reach over 
the watery expanse, to where ocean seems 
mingling with air, and there sees the resplendent 
orb of day sinking in all its glory and brightness 
to rest, his thoughts fly to it, and from thence 
to other spheres and through the vast infinity of 
space. Lost in admiration of the order of each 
system, a plan so noble, so mysteriously won- 
derful, he breaks forth in adoration, of what ? 
Nature, not nature's Goo. 

Perhaps, while he is thus employed, we should 
be inclined to call him happy ; though could we 
critically examine his feelings we should find 
that much was wanting in this tumult of the 
passions to real felicity. Let us add now to his 
intellectual character the fervor of true piety, 
and see whether he will not then enjoy this 
felicity. Let the fire of devotion be kindled in 
his breast, let it burn with a steady and con- 
stant, though bright and beautiful flame. All 



49 

in his character which was before unlovely will 
be consumed by the fire. The good of self 
will no longer be the leading principle of action. 
Now let those sublime scenes which before af- 
forded him astonishment and delight, be pre- 
sented to his view, and to those he before experi- 
enced will be added more holy pleasures. The 
transition is easy and delightful, from nature up 
to nature's God, and his soul is filled with sub- 
lime views of the great Creator. With the eye 
of faith he penetrates the mists and dark clouds 
intervening between this and the "better land;" 
and though few, very few, of its beauties are 
yet visible, still he knows enough to brighten 
his hopes and make him long for heaven. He 
knows it to be a land of pure delight, where 
flow the waters of everlasting life ; where shines 
in unfading glory the Sun of Righteousness, 
and where the saints are like stars around the 
throne. 

But the character of this person is now en- 
tirely changed. His views and feelings are no 
longer what they once were. Self was formerly 
predominant in his feelings, and nothing that 
tended to the good or aggrandizement of self 
was forgotten or left undone. Now what he 
first considers is the glory of God ; next, the 
happiness of his fellow mortals. He was fol- 



50 

lowing hard after the ignis fatuus, fame. Now 
it seemed near, now at a distance from him. 
It always eluded his grasp, yet always prom- 
ised fair ; and he would have followed it on, 
with his eye fixed upon its delusive brilliancy, 
until it led him to destruction, had not the light 
of heaven burst suddenly upon his view and 
turned his attention to things well worthy the 
consideration of an immortal being. 

Perhaps the worldly influence of an intellec- 
tual character would not be increased by piety, 
for the respect paid to intellect, by the world 
at large, is very great, whereas but little is 
paid to piety. This can be accounted for only 
on the ground of the natural enmity of men to 
holiness, together with our short-sightedness. 
We are apt to look only at the present time, and 
to be delighted with a showy exterior. It is 
therefore not strange that men of mere intellec- 
tual attainments should be men of influence. 
But though they have it in their power to do 
much good, they too often do only evil. We 
have heard of one, great in science and sublime 
in mind, whose name was sounded first among 
the learned and then re-echoed by the unlet- 
tered. The world united in pronouncing him 
truly great. Fortune's gifts were his also. But 
while Heaven was showering earthly blessings 



51 

upon him, Heaven was by him forgotten. His 
countrymen rejoiced over his literary fame, but 
there was never joy in heaven for his conver- 
sion. All the mighty influence which he had 
obtained, and which would have enabled him 
to do much good, he exerted in favor of sin. 
He condemned the Bible and bade men disbe- 
lieve, when belief is everlasting life and disbe- 
lief is endless death. 

We shudder, when we reflect on the influ- 
ence of such a character, but rejoice in the mild 
light which is shed abroad by the person who 
mingles piety with mental grandeur. And when 
we reflect upon the importance of influence 
being good, and consider that it always is either 
decidedly good or bad, let us try to discover 
what is the character of the little we possess ; 
and in order that it may be good, let us en- 
deavor so to combine in our education pure reli- 
gion and knowledge, that they can never be 
separated. 



THE PROSPECT FROM BUTLER'S HILL. 

May 20, 1829. 

I delight, sometimes, to wander over hill 
and dale, and revel in the beauties of nature ; 



52 

" to steal awhile from study and care," and allow 
my mind to unbend, and, freed from restraint, 
to run as it will ; to give the reins to my imagi- 
nation and let it soar as high as it may. And I 
do not believe that this indulgence is produc- 
tive of any evil consequences. The mind 
needs relaxation as well as the body, and will 
not bear to be always confined within narrow 
bounds. The little bird will die if always kept 
close prisoner in its cage. But let it sometimes, 
unconfined, wing its way to the clear blue sky, 
and it will return refreshed and invigorated, 
and, grateful for the privilege, will sing you a 
bright and happy song— a meet reward for your 
kindness. 

And viewing the fair and beautiful scenes of 

nature, cannot produce wrong feelings in the 

mind, for all is God's work, and the mind will 

naturally ascend from the created to the Creator. 

******* 

In an opposite direction, just at the foot of 
the hill, I see that which excites reflection of 
greater solemnity. There is 

" The abode of the dead and the place of ihe tomb." 

Those lie there who shall never more arise till 
the sound of the trump at the resurrection morn. 
And it is a solemn thought that all must soon 



53 

go to people the graveyard. Youth affords no 
protection, for I have seen the flush of health 
quit the youthful cheek and the pale haggard 
look succeed. I have seen the gladsome smile 
fade from the lips, and those lips close forever. 
I have seen the fire and animation forsake eyes 
which once beamed joyously, and those eyes 
shut in death. But even death has no terrors 
to the Christian. He knows 

" That the flowers of hope and beauty do grow, 
; Neath the grave's cold pyramid/' 

and that, though his body be dead, his soul 
shall live in heaven and flourish there in immor- 
tal bloom. 



THE NECESSITY OF EXERTING OURSELVES TO OBTAIN 
THE HAPPINESS WE WISH. 

Feb. 16, 1830. 

Every one is more or less addicted to build- 
ing castles in the air, but their foundations are 
seldom laid upon dark clouds portending ill. 
They are most generally placed upon clouds 
gilded by the sun of promise, and colored with 
the rainbow's varied hues, and the edifice itself 
is of glittering gold, and sparkling with radiant 
5 



54 

gems. We view these bright objects, though 
they be but phantoms of an hour, with admi- 
ration. " Distance lends enchantment to the 
view," and we hope — vainly hope — to inhabit 
the gay edifices our imaginations have created. 
How happy are we in all our youthful dreams. 

" It is the precious privilege of youth 
To paint all visions in the hues of truth." 

And indeed it is a precious privilege. Who 
would willingly relinquish the joys of anticipa- 
tion ! But is it the privilege of youth alone ? 

" And oh, alas, must our glad spirits sail 
Into the years when dreams of joy depart 
With each bright morning, like the nightingale ? 
When hope is only for the slumbering hours, 
A thing on which the voaker thinks and weeps ? 
And pleasant fancy, like night-blooming flowers, 
Gives out a fragrance but while memory sleeps ? " 

Ah, if this will be true in its full extent, Ave 
may well wish to detain our youthful days. 
But I cannot think it is the case, that hope 
fades with the rose on the cheek. I trust that 
it will be a solace through all the journey of 
life. 

Yet we have no surety that our dreams of 
joy will be realized. Indeed we know that life 
cannot be all poetry. It is now but the spring 
of our existence. We may look forward and 



55 

expect the winter of life. We may expect our 
joys to drop off one after another, as the leaves 
from the trees in autumn. But is it not a sweet 
thought, that there is One who, if we love him, 
will be with us in sadness and trouble. He 
can make " the desert blossom as the rose," 
and, if we spend the short year of our life in his 
service, he will receive us to his upper world to 
enjoy there an eternal spring of felicity. 

We know not what may be our lot in life ; 
but there are few of us, I presume, who do not 
sometimes wish to lift the veil that hides from 
us the picture of the future. We cannot do 
this, but I believe we can, in a great measure, 
direct the course of our future lives. We can 
make ourselves either happy or miserable, for 
time and eternity. The days of our youth are 
to fit us for the active scenes of this life, and 
this life is to fit us for an endless state of exist- 
ence. How few are the days then upon which 
hang our immortal destinies ! And shall we 
waste these days in imagining future enjoy- 
ment without making any exertion to attain it ? 
Shall we be forever looking forward to then and 
forget the noio ? 

We early learn to connect happiness with 
virtue, and misery with vice. In all our dreams 
I suppose there is not one of us who does not 



56 

imagine himself possessed of some excellence. 
We suppose that we shall go on increasing in 
goodness till we are worthy of the enjoyments 
we anticipate. Does the student expect to ob- 
tain some high honor in the literary world? 
He also expects so to improve his intellectual 
powers as to be deserving of that honor. Does 
the Christian hope to have placed upon his head 
the crown of glory ? He knows that to gain it 
he must run the Christian race. But suppose 
that instead of pressing forward to the mark, he 
stops in the early part of his course, and sleeps 
and dreams of heaven, can he reasonably hope 
to reach the happy land ? Or could the travel- 
ler, on his way to a distant city, hope ever to 
enter its gates if he should ascend some lofty 
eminence and spend the day in contemplating 
and admiring the place towards which he ought 
to be moving ? It is just so with us. We must 
not spend our time in wishing for happiness 
and dreaming of it. 

" No man e'er found a happy life by chance, 
Or yawned it into being with a wish." 

It does no good to sit by our firesides and 
imagine scenes of future bliss. We must rise 
up and act, cast dull sloth away, and determine 
to attain the highest pinnacle of happiness upon 



57 

which we have placed our eyes. We must lay- 
it down as a fixed principle, that whatever is 
right to be done, if we will it, can be accom- 
plished. Take for our maxim, -'Perseverance 
conquers all things," and we shall do wonders. 
The mind is unlimited in its powers and opera- 
tions, and shall we circumscribe what the Crea- 
tor has left unbounded ? 

I believe there is often a mistake in the early 
education of children. A little child will often 
endeavor to accomplish something great for him ■ 
he labors hard, and his efforts are near being 
crowned with success, when some little acci- 
dent frustrates all his hopes, and he sits down 
disappointed and chagrined. His parents, see- 
ing his mortification and sorrow, strive to com- 
fort him by saying that he has done well so far, 
that he aimed at doing something too great for 
him : that none of his companions could have 
accomplished what he attempted, and that he 
must be content to look lower. The effect of 
this will be, the child will be more likely to be 
discouraged again : he will gradually lose all 
confidence in his own powers ; place his standard 
low, and acquire a habit of yielding to the most 
trifling difficulties. 

We should early acquire decision of character 

and fixedness of purpose. Who would ever have 
5 # 



58 

accomplished any thing, had he yielded to little 
difficulties or remained inactive, without mak- 
ing any exertion, and only dreamed of his won- 
drous works ? We have a striking example of 
perseverance and enterprise in the life and char- 
acter of the celebrated philanthropist, John 
Howard. When he embarked on his " voyage 
of discovery, his circumnavigation of charity," 
he determined to do good ; to increase the 
amount of happiness and diminish the amount 
of misery upon earth. He visited the scenes 
of greatest distress and descended into the deep- 
est dungeons. The danger of death did not 
frighten him from his purpose, and he succeeded 
in wonderfully mitigating the sorrows of the 
afflicted. The late Samuel J. Mills, in his 
younger days, made the remark to a friend, that 
" he could not be content to have his influence 
felt only in his own country." He was deter- 
mined that it should be felt to the farthest cor- 
ners of the habitable globe. It was felt, it will 
be felt, and thousands who are even now sitting 
in heathenish darkness shall rise up and call 
him blessed. 

These were men. But it is equally neces- 
sary that females should acquire a determined 
fixedness of character, and their efforts shall be 
crowned with equal success. Mrs. Grahame 



59 

was but a woman. Still she accomplished 
much, for decision was a distinguishing trait in 
her character. In her youthful days, while in 
the midst of friends, she little thought of the 
trials she should be called to undergo ; but it 
was early her aim to acquire that which would 
be a solace in every grief — a comfort in every 
wo — and she succeeded so well that I may 
venture to say, that in her days of greatest 
affliction, she enjoyed more true happiness than 
the votaries of the world can find in whole 
years spent in its search. 

Solomon hath said, " The diligent hand mak- 
eth rich." By continued labor the miser may 
heap his golden chest. By continued labor he 
who strives for honors may pluck the highest 
branch from the laurel tree ; and by continued 
labor the Christian may at last enter the gates 
of the heavenly paradise. If we can be what 
we choose, if by continued labor we can make 
our five talents ten, our tens, hundreds, and our 
hundreds, thousands, we must not waste time 
in castle building. Time is short. We must 
decide quickly what we will be. We must be 
content to labor, and toil, and strive, and then, 
most assuredly, we shall gain our object. 

And what shall our object be ? Shall it be 
admiration ? Though our " sails are nicely 



60 

spread to catch the gale of praise," it will not 
waft us to a safe harbor. Shall we seek for 
happiness ? Yes ; let us seek for happiness. 
The Christian seeks for this, and he finds it is a 
flower that will bloom even on earth, though 
here it is not lasting. But how does he find it ? 
By denying himself he obtains it. He loves 
God and his fellow creatures, and is happy in 
the exercise of his affections. He looks forth 
upon the beauties of the natural world, and oh 
with what rapture does he exclaim, " My Fa- 
ther made them all." He visits the house of 
mourning, and while exerting himself for the 
good of the sorrowing, and even when shedding 
the sympathetic tear, he feels ten thousand times 
the joy the selfish mortal knows, " who locks 
his joy and bars out other's woes." He looks 
forward too to the happiness of heaven. This 
little world could not contain all the bliss in 
reserve for him. Heaven, the home of the just, 
is before him, upon that his eyes are fastened ; 
there all his joys and hopes are centered ; there 
dwells the God whom he loves, and 'tis to dwell 
in glory there he labors. 



61 



THE ROSE. 



I delight in flowers, and it gives me a 
pleasure I cannot well express to watch the 
opening of spring's first buds. I love to gaze 
upon the delicate tints of the early May-flower, 
the blue shading of the violet, or the spotless 
purity of the lily. And when I look at these 
lovely things, radiant with life and beauty, they 
seem so peaceful and so happy that at times I 
half imagine them endowed with a sense of 
enjoyment. But I prefer the rose to all other 
flowers, unless it be the lily. For its sweet and 
lasting perfume, the peculiar delicacy of its 
coloring, and the gracefulness of its form, it was 
always a favorite of mine. And I think I can 
discover in its every leaf, the wonderful power, 
wisdom and benevolence of the same Being 
who gilded the tiny feathers on the wing of the 
butterfly, and who created millions of suns to 
be centres of light and heat, round which 
numberless worlds, glorious as ours, revolve in 
perfect harmony. * * The rose is as perfect 
in all its parts as the solar system. These parts 
are as well adapted to each other, and, united, 
they form one as beautiful and harmonious 
whole. And there is one principle in the hum- 



62 

blest flower — the principle of life — which be- 
stows upon the flower a dignity that the solar 

system does not possess. 

******* 

The bee hovers round the rose, breathes its 
perfume j beholds its loveliness and quits it not 
till he has extracted sweets ; so we, ere we quit 
the flower, must draw one moral lesson. Let 
the young cease to exult in their beauty, 
remembering it is frail as the summer rose, " the 
wind passeth over it and it is gone," but let 
them cultivate those amaranthine flowers which 
will never fade on earth, and which, when 
transplanted to the paradise of God, will bloom 
forever in surpassing loveliness. 



PRAISE DUE ONLY TO MORAL EXCELLENCE. 

There seems naturally to exist in the human 
heart, a longing after immortality. * * But 
it is not merely posthumous fame that restless 
mortals so ardently desire. Contemporary re- 
nown is more generally preferred. * * The 
love of admiration is no less universal than 
mighty in its effects. True the world is not 
full of such men as Caesar and Buonaparte, 



63 

Voltaire and Byron, but ambition flows in 
different channels. If we will but look carefully 
into our own characters, and examine particu- 
larly our own conduct, we shall find that a great 
part of our actions proceed from a love of 
display. 

******* 

We are commanded in the Scriptures to seek 
after the praise of God, rather than the praise of 
man, but yet it is perfectly right, and indeed it 
is undeniably our duty, to seek for the regard 
and good opinion of those whose characters are 
assimilated to the Deity. But if we would 
preserve our independence of character and 
moral rectitude, we must ever continue to be 
epicures in our taste, delighting to receive praise 
from the virtuous alone. * * * 

I conceive all moral excellence to be derived 
from God. Every ray of virtue beaming 
through the darkness of this gloomy world, may 
be considered as emanating from the Sun of 
Righteousness. Those whose minds have been 
enubilated from sin and superstition by the 
influences of the Holy Spirit, may possess the 
power of reflecting this divine light, and be 
luminous stars in our world. Only such persons 
shed a holy influence around them. Conse- 
quently only such influence ought to be 



64 

approved. And as theirs is the light of heaven, 
the praising it, is, in fact, praising the Deity. 

******* 

The physical and intellectual powers of the 
fallen Archangel, are represented as being of the 
highest order. And of the truth of this repre- 
sentation we have daily proof in the almost 
unbounded influence he exerts in the world. 
But yet we would not praise him. And. why 
should his servants here upon earth be treated 
differently, in this respect, from their master? 
Why, when it is generally allowed that their 
influence is opposed to every thing good, should 
their powers be extolled to the clouds ? 

******* 

Let us suppose ourselves engaged with two 
authors possessed of equal intellectual powers, 
but the one a votary of the world, the other 
devoted to God. Let the former exert his 
talents for our pleasure, and he may lead our 
imagination from planet to planet, and from star 
to star, till wearied it can soar no higher. Then, 
with the air of a philosopher, he may proceed 
to explain to us all the wonderful phenomena of 
the starry worlds, till we are in admiration of his 
learning, as before of his imagination. Next he 
takes the empire of our hearts. Now he causes 
our countenances to beam with delight, anon 



65 

we start with horror, and, ere we are aware, 
sadness 'steals over us, and the tear is trickling 
down our cheeks. But all this time, as he is 
leading us captivated by his genius from one 
scene to another, he is leading us away from 
God. Not once has he directed our thoughts to 
the subject of piety. On the contrary he has been 
gradually infusing into our minds the poison of 
infidelity. So, in the summer evening, pleased 
we wander forth to gaze upon the moonbeams ; 
but fevers are floating in the atmosphere, and 
we inhale the pestilential vapors with the sweet 
balmy air. Is it wise to commend the intellect 
that tempts us to love the draught which is 
deadly poison to our souls ? 

The other author, if he directs our attention 
to natural objects, allows us to dwell in admira- 
tion upon their loveliness and beauty, their 
grandeur and sublimity, but he allows us not to 
quit them until we have been directed to the 
Maker of this beautiful world, and until His 
wisdom and benevolence in the formation of 
every created thing, have been placed before us 
in the most striking light. He will cause our 
countenances to beam with delight, as he shows 
us the glorious plan of redemption, and tells us 
of the love of God in giving his Son for our 
ransom. We start with horror as he describes 
6 



66 

to us the dreadful nature of that sin which 
requires this infinite sacrifice ; and again smile 
happily as we read of Him who releases from 
the dominion of wickedness ; and the tear of 
compassion trickles down our cheek, as our 
minds are directed to those who have never 
heard of Jesus. This author has consecrated all 
the powers of his mind to the service of his 
Redeemer, and now, he exerts the immense 
power he has obtained over our minds, in 
directing us in that road which leads to life, and 
thus striving to promote our eternal happiness. 
For what a noble end is this mighty power 
exerted ? Shall we commend this power of 
intellect ? No, let the moral excellence which 
directs in the management of it have all the 
praise. 

Methinks this subject might teach us poor, 
weak, faltering, fainting creatures, humility. 
We have nothing of our own worthy of praise. 
There is nothing in the universe deserving of 
praise save moral excellence, and that all is 
derived from God. ll To Him then be all the 
glory." 



67 



ECONOMY. 

1831. 



* * Economy does not by any means imply 
intellectual or moral inferiority. If an individ- 
ual exists whose pericranium contains one solitary 
idea, and in whose heart not even a latent spark 
of philanthropy can be detected, he can act the 
part of the miser or the prodigal, as well as one 
more liberally endowed with heaven's gifts. 
But what qualifications are requisite for the 
perfect economist ? In order to discover, we 
must recur to our definition of his principle. 
Economy is the appropriation of each and every 
individual thing to its proper use. Therefore 
the economist must first learn the proper use of 
each thing which comes within his circle, and 
then, precisely the manner of appropriating it. 
Those things which come under the direction 
of any person are almost infinitely various. It 
is therefore evident that, in order to have an 
exact understanding of the nature, uses, and 
tendencies of each, he must possess a thorough 
knowledge of all the laws which govern the 
natural, moral and intellectual world. And all 
this unbounded knowledge will be of no avail, 
unless his is a never erring judgment to direct 
in its application. Nor is even this sufficient. 



68 

As every thing is designed to promote general 
happiness, he must be perfectly benevolent. 
When we sum up these requisites (and not one 
of them can be dispensed with), we find them 
to amount to nothing short of omniscience and 
holiness, attributes that belong only to the 
Deity. 

In truth, God is the only perfect economist, 
and, as far as philosophers have been able to 
examine his works and explore the mighty plan 
of the universe, they have been delighted and 
astonished with the unparalleled order and 
beautiful economy pervading the whole. No- 
thing has been created without its use, and all 
things remain true to the ends for which they 
were created, save where sin has disordered the 
divine arrangement and marred its primitive 
loveliness. 

In the vast creation a small sphere has been 
assigned us in which to act ; and something 
which we are permitted to call, for a little while, 
our own, has been granted to each one of us, 
for the improvement and disposition of which 
we must be finally accountable. In our little 
sphere let us not disdain to practice the virtue of 
economy ; but " as much as lieth in us," (for we 
are ignorant and sinful,) follow the example of 
the great Upholder and Builder of the Universe. 



69 



"TO KNOW, NOT THINGS OBSCURE AND SUBTLE, BUT THOSE 
IN DAILY LIFE, IS THE PRIME WISDOM." 

January 19, 1832. 
******* 

He who has thought to cull the blooming 
buds of happiness in the rugged paths of knowl- 
edge, who has sought wisdom among the stars 
and in the depths of the sea, who has explored 
the animal, vegetable and mineral kingdoms, 
examined the various links which connect each 
with each, and all with the vast universe of God ; 
who has dived into the mysteries of the mind 
and sought out the hidden workings of the 
heart, adding knowledge to knowledge, till the 
half cannot be told, will, notwithstanding his 
vast attainments, be still unsatisfied. Were he 
capable of unravelling the mazes of the past, 
and could he trace with perfect accuracy and 
truth, the history of mankind from the creation 
to the present moment, all that he knew would, 
in his eyes, seem contemptible in comparison 
with what he knew not. " Ah," he would 
exclaim, " what avails it that I know the past, 
when an impenetrable vail hides from my 
inquiring eyes the secrets of the future ?" Had 
he the power of looking abroad over the wide 
world, and beholding, at the same moment, the 
conduct of every earthly being, examining into 
6 * 



70 

their most secrets thoughts, and reading the 
intents and purposes of their hearts, " Alas," 
would he say, "it is nothing that I can perceive 
the actions of puny mew, when the conduct of 
the inhabitants of celestial spheres is to me 
unknown. What though the thoughts of men 
are plain before me ? Of the purposes of 
Jehovah I know nothing, neither can I divine 
the rapturous emotions of the happy spirits who 
tune their golden lyres around His all glorious 
throne." Such is the human disposition, and 
thus it is that individuals whom Providence has 
kindly allowed to taste the Pierian spring, 
pleased with the clear waters, strive for deeper 
draughts, and spend the short time allotted for 
their existence, and intended to be applied to 
practical purposes, in reaching after things too 
high for them. ***** 



A DEWDROP. 

June 1, 1832. 

The finest morning last May enticed me 
forth to breathe her mild air and rejoice in her 
budding beauty. As I was wandering with 
delight over those spots where Spring's first 
footsteps had evidently preceded mine, I per- 



n 

ceived, directly in my path, a violet peeping out 
from among its green foliage. And it would 
not long have blossomed on its stem, had I not 
observed a sparkling dewdrop "in its blue cup 
trembling." And as I have a kind of sympathy 
for inanimate things that makes me unwilling 
to destroy the brief glory even of a dewdrop, I 
did not disturb the flower, but passed on, re- 
flecting upon what I had seen. 

And what had I seen ? Why, a dewdrop. 
Can a dewdrop afford a subject for reflection ? 
Yes, for hard study and serious reflection ; for 
the history and phenomena of dew, involves 
principles of chemistry and natural philosophy, 
that it would require more than the longest life 
to discover, or discovered, thoroughly to inves- 
tigate. 

A dewdrop is a mere drop of water. Water 
was formerly deemed an elementary substance. 
The world existed many ages before chemistry 
discovered, not by magic, but by hard study and 
laborious experiment, that it was composed of 
hydrogen and oxygen. 

A dewdrop is round. Why does it always 
assume that form ? Why never cubical, conical 
or irregularly shaped ? Philosophy in reply to 
the question, offers this theory. Every drop of 
the fluid is composed of innumerable spheres 



72 

too minute to be discerned by the aid of any 
microscope. These little particles, owing to 
their peculiar form, must attract each other 
equally from every point ; of course the drop 
would be spherical. This same theory accounts 
for the trembling of the dewdrop. The little 
globules can touch each other in one point only, 
therefore the liquid yields to the slightest pres- 
sure, whether it be a pressure of air, as is the 
case in this instance, or of a denser substance. 
It is curious to observe that the same principle 
which causes a bead of dew to tremble upon 
the petal of a blossom, also causes the foaming 
and raging of the mighty ocean. 

Why does the tremulous dewdrop glitter in 
the sun, displaying so many brilliant colors ? 
The answer to this question involves most 
wonderful and interesting facts with regard to 
light, and light unillumined by philosophy, 
would be but darkness to our mental vision. Sir 
Isaac Newton, who is justly styled the father of 
natural philosophy, discovered that a colorless 
ray of light is composed of an assemblage of 
various colors which may be divided and ex- 
hibited by a prism. Now the minute, translucid 
drop resting upon the corolla of the violet, acts 
the part of a perfect prism, and, while one ray 
of the sun falls upon it, the seven glowing 



73 

colors of the rainbow will be beautifully radi- 
ated. 

So much for the single dewdrop. But whence 
came it, and whence come all those gems that 
sparkle like diamonds in the morn, and shine 
like pearls in the evening ? As dew falls only 
during the absence of the sun, ancient poets 
imagined that it fell from the stars, and, fallen, 
mocked the stars. But the phenomenon of dew 
is now accounted for on reasonable and philo- 
sophical principles. The atmosphere always 
contains moisture which was evaporated at first, 
and is kept in a state of solution by means of 
its caloric. After sunset the earth cools by a 
rapid radiation of its heat. The warm atmos- 
phere comes in contact with the cold earth, and, 
losing part of its solvent power, is rendered 
incapable of retaining all its moisture, and 
hence a part is deposited upon the earth. 

When the weather is extremely warm, more 
dew is observed to fall. The reason is this. 
The more caloric the earth receives during the 
day, the more it will necessarily radiate, and, 
consequently, the more rapidly will its tempera- 
ture be reduced in the evening in comparison 
with that of the atmosphere. The same holds 
in warm climates. 

Dew is not observed on all bodies in the same 



74 

proportion. A great deal is deposited upon 
vegetables, little or none upon rocks, sand, or 
living animals. This fact is accounted for in 
the following manner. The body upon which 
the dew falls must, as was explained above, be 
cooler than the atmosphere. Some bodies are 
what is termed better conductors of caloric than 
others, that is, they heat and cool more rapidly. 
Such bodies, after sunset, will soon cool ; while 
those that are bad conductors will retain nearly 
the same temperature that they had previously 
acquired. Yegetables are better conductors of 
caloric than rocks or sand, therefore upon them 
the dew descends most copiously. It does not 
descend upon living animals as upon plants, 
because of their vital heat, which is greater 
than the heat of the atmosphere. 

While glancing at these principles it would 
be well for us to notice what a beautiful illus- 
tration they afford of the Supreme wisdom and 
benevolence. Take for instance the time and 
manner of the dew's falling. In warm climates 
and during warm weather the greatest quantity 
of dew is required. And God has provided that 
in such climates and during such weather the 
greatest quantity shall descend. Again, his 
wise economy is manifest in causing it to fall 
upon vegetables, to which it is so highly bene- 



75 

ficial, while upon rocks and sand, to which it 
would be useless, and upon living animals, to 
whom it would be decidedly injurious, it is not 
deposited. 

It would be pleasant to trace out in broad 
creation those principles that acting here cause 
the phenomena of dew, for we should find that 
wherever they were seen, whether exerting their 
influence upon particles or upon large masses of 
matter, they never failed to bear evidence to the 
goodness and intelligence of Jehovah. But one 
instance must suffice. We noticed previously, 
as exhibited in the dewdrop, the divisibility of 
the rays of light producing color. And what 
benevolence does this arrangement manifest ! 
We might probably have existed in a gloomy 
world, where all was colorless matter, with 
nothing but mere light and shade to relieve the 
eye. But our Heavenly Father did not place 
us in such a world. On the contrary, with 
what an endless variety of rich and delicate 
hues has the pencil of nature painted the wide 
extended landscape ! 

Dew, being so bright and beautiful in its 
appearance, has often been introduced into 
poetry, and has suggested to the poet's creative 
imagination many fanciful ideas. It has been 



76 

a favorite type of things in their nature evan- 
escent ; as 

" Our young loves and hopes, like morning dew-drops 
Sparkling in the sun, have gone forever." 

Another poet would have us draw from it a 
moral lesson. 

" The dew came down unseen, at eventide, 
To teach to man unostentatious charity." 

The Bible also, which contains not only the 
best of sentiments, but likewise the best of 
poetry, makes frequent use of it as a figure. 
" O Judah, what shall I do unto thee ? Thy 
goodness is as the morning cloud, and as the 
early dew it goeth away." Moses, in allusion 
to the beneficial influence of dew, says, " My 
speech shall distill as the dew, as the small rain 
upon the tender herb, and as the showers upon 
the grass, because I will publish the name of 
the Lord." Would that the conversation of all 
might for the same reason, be justly compared 
with the dew. God, in allusion to the same 
genial influence of dew upon vegetables, says 
of his beloved people, " I will be as dew unto 
Israel, and he shall grow as the lily, and cast 
forth his roots as Lebanon." 

It is said in the Scriptures that the children 



77 

of God shall be " like the drops of the morning 
for multitude," and they may be compared to 
these little drops in some other respects. Like 
these they are destined to remain upon earth 
but a very little while ; like these they should 
exert a genial influence while they remain and 
in their departure ; like these they are very 
small in comparison with that great Sun whose 
light they reflect ; and like these too they 
should so reflect that light, that it may seem 
most lovely to the eye of every beholder. 



LETTERS. 

Ipswich, June 25, 1831. 

* * * * Dearest Grandmother, how well 
I can remember the pleasure I used to take 
when I was a very little girl in the tiny chair 
at your feet, while you, kind as you always 
were, was endeavoring to amuse and at the 
same time to instruct me. I remember the 
happy faculty you had of repeating to me stories 
from that best of books, the Bible, and convey- 
ing, at the same time, its glorious truths and 
holy precepts to my heart. I think very often 
what an ungrateful, wayward child I have been 
7 



78 

to do no better than I have done, and be the 
means of conferring no more happiness than I 
have conferred upon my friends. Timothy, 
who was blest with the instructions and prayers 
of his mother Eunice and grand-mother Lois, 
was a very different youth from your grand- 
daughter, who must answer for the improve- 
ment she has made of like privileges. * * * 
Your letter afforded me a great deal of pleasure, 
but I should have liked it better had it contained 
more advice. When abroad, I want "line upon 
line," when at home, "precept upon precept." 
Be assured I shall never tire of it and I will 
endeavor to improve upon it. The accounts 
you gave me of the state of religion in S. B., 
were extremely interesting. I did hope that 
the interest there would increase until all had 
been brought in, especially all the men of influ- 
ence. * * * At any rate I would desire to 
be thankful to God for the good work he has 
already wrought there in so many souls, and at 
the same time to pray more fervently for those 
who remain. But when praying for my friends 
I find that I am extremely selfish. I wish that 
I could feel more earnest desires for the glory 
of God, and less anxiety for my own and their 
happiness. 



79 

From a letter written to her mother after 
hearing that her grand-mother would probably 
live but a few days. 

Ipswich, Aug. 10, 1831. 

* * * I know not whether I am writing 
of one who is languishing upon a bed of sick- 
ness and suffering intense anguish of body, or of 
one who has escaped from her prison of clay, 
and, leaving the troubles of this world, has 
gone to heaven to meet those of her friends 
who went before her, and to enjoy the society 
of holy angels and the immediate presence of 
God and the blessed Jesus. However grand- 
mother may be situated with regard to these 
things, wherever she is, I thank God that I 
have reason to believe that she is happy — much 
happier than any of her sorrowing relatives. 
Her hope has long been placed upon the Rock 
of Ages, and now, when the hour of trial has 
come, the united powers of earth and hell can- 
not shake it. Dear mother, how delightful is 
her state of mind. Let us not be so selfish as 
to mourn, but let us rejoice in her happiness. 

Dear mother, do not let this dispensation of 
Providence cast you down. You will not, I 
know, for, considering it as a dispensation of 
Providence, you cannot. I know well that you 



80 

must greatly suffer, for she has been to you 
also like a sister. She has been your comforter 
and adviser through all your life, as you have 
been mine, and what could I do were you to be 
taken from me ? There is but one thing which 
I could do in such a case, and that is all that 
you can do. Trust in God, who is omniscient, 
omnipotent, and benevolent. He knows all our 
wants, has power to satisfy them all, and above 
all, the disposition. He can sustain to us every 
endearing relation, and be even more than 
father or mother. * * * * We have great 
reason to rejoice that she is in full possession 
of her reason, and able to grant to us all her 
blessing. * * Farewell, dear mother, and 
that you may be happy through all things, 
always trusting in God, is the prayer of your 
most affectionate daughter. 



September 3, 1831. 

* * * I rejoice that in the loss which you 
have sustained you have been enabled to discern 
so clearly the hand of God, and trust that what- 
ever scenes of distress you may be called to pass 
through, your reliance upon God will still re- 
main fixed and unshaken. Is it not delightful 



81 

to let our thoughts dwell upon the immuta- 
bility of Jehovah ; to reflect that amidst all the 
changes of this moving planet, He is still the 
same ; to feel that though all our earthly hopes 
and expectations may fail, all that are really 
founded in Him must remain 



" Till faith is sweetly lost in sight, 
And hope, in full supreme delight, 
And everlasting: love ? " 



Dear Brother : — 

* * Last Sabbath evening we were 
on earth, grand-mother was in heaven, freed 
from sin and trouble, and enjoying intimate 
communion with God and with the holy angels. 
What a glorious Sabbath was that to her soul ! 

Was it not indeed a rest ? Dear , when 

we reflect upon the ineffable felicity which the 
saints enjoy around Jehovah's throne, tuning 
their harps to the praise of God and the Lamb 
forever, does it not seem that we are awfully 
selfish to wish to detain them in this wilderness 
world ? Is it not a happy thing for one to die 
who has learnt the art of living to some good 

purpose ? I hope, dear , that neither of us 

will be called to depart until tve have acquired 



82 

a knowledge of that art. I pray to God that 
you may not let this providence pass by unim- 
proved. You have seen now, and so have we 
all, an example of holy living and dying. May 
we conform ourselves to the one, so that we may 
not be dissimilar in the other. I trust that you 
will treasure up those words that she spoke to 
you while yet alive. You remember, as you 
sat by her bedside, your hand clasped in hers, 
the words which at that time fell upon your 
ear from her pious lips, " Read your Bible 
daily, pray to God daily." Do not these words 
now seem to you like a voice coming from near 
the throne and saying " My son, give my thy 
heart ? " 



Ipswich, Sept. 13, 1831. 
My Dear Mother: — 

* * I am sorry that my delay in 
writing caused you so much trouble. I wish I 
could have it to say that I had never given you 
one single moment's anxiety or pain in my life. 
I wish that I had never caused you one single 
heartache, but had ever been the same good, 
grateful, dutiful, obedient daughter that I ought 
to have been. But so I have not. May Heaven 



83 

grant me strength to discharge my duties to my 
God, my parents, the world, and to myself, far 
better than I have heretofore, for in every thing, 
as far as I see, I have come far short. From 
examination it seems to be a plain fact that I 
have not done my whole duty to myself, nor to 
any one individual in existence. I always 
knew this fact, for many years I have given my 
assent to it, but I believe that I never felt it as 
I have of late. I never felt, as I lately have, 
the absolute necessity of making a mighty 
exertion to accelerate my onward motion. I 
am striving now to bring every motive in force 
to press me onward in the right way. Since I 
hoped to have entered upon that course, I have 
made so feio advances that I must now make 
extraordinary efforts to redeem lost time. I 
have had some most sad fears lately, dear 
mother, with regard to myself. I am afraid 
that I shall never be good for any thing in the 
world. I am afraid that I have not energy, 
decision, and firmness of purpose, sufficient to 
prevent me from being one of those so so beings 
whose company may readily be dispensed with 
for the sake of their room. Now I really do 
want to do good in the world, and to live to 
some purpose, and I do hope that by means of 
heavenly assistance I shall be able. I have not 



84 

much confidence in myself, none in my good 
resolutions, but there is One who can assist me. 



My Dear Brother : — 

* * I pity poor girls that are 
brotherless. They know not how much hap- 
piness exists in the world which they cannot 
enjoy. They cannot fully understand and ap- 
preciate the meaning of the expressions, active 
sympathy, disinterested attachment, unchanging 
love. They cannot know what it is to have 
always, from the commencement of being, a 
friend who can laugh with them, and at them 
if need be, talk, read and walk with them, take 
their part, defend them, assist them, doing that 
for them that they cannot do for themselves, 
going miles off into the woods and over the 
hills to gather flowers and evergreen, to decorate 
the room for the evening party, and, better still, 
returning from the locked up classics and scien- 
tific research, with fadeless flowers for the in- 
tellectual parlor. They do not know what it is 
to have one who can see and understand and 
feel justly with regard to their characters, and 
speak his mind without exciting a doubt as to 



85 

his motives and honesty. They may have 
sisters, it is true, but between sisters having the 
same objects of pursuit and engaged in the 
same way, there are often existing petty jeal- 
ousies and collisions of interest that are liable 
to destroy the good effect of open expression of 
sentiment. But if a brother praises us, we feel 
as if we deserve it, for a brother can have no 
motive to flatter. He may be blinded by par- 
tiality, but partiality is itself a most delightful 
compliment. And if a brother scolds a little, 
why reason tells us that he can have no motive 
to find fault but our good, and so, though we 
may resent it a little at first, we are obliged at 
last to confess to ourselves that we are guilty of 
the fault, and to promise mentally that we will 
improve. * * 



1833. 

* * It seems, by your last, that you have 
been examining your character, thinking of 
your prospects of success, and forming plans 
and schemes for future life, and with some 
anxiety, you say. Yes, I should think you 
would now feel very differently from what you 
ever have done. I have thought a great deal of 
you lately, and believe I can imagine pretty 



86 

well some of your cogitations ; for with all your 
lately acquired self-knowledge, I know the gen- 
eral characteristics of your mind and heart 
almost as well as you do yourself. I can now 
seem to see you engaged intently in studying 
out a difficult and interesting case. You labor 
with all your might. Your feelings become 
engaged. You see the law clearly. Then the 
thought strikes your mind, " How would I act 
should a case like that occur in my practice ? " 
Your intellect is excited. You already feel 
eloquent. High thoughts arise in your mind. 
You have a full conception of what it is to be 
a man. Difficulties do not vanish, but you 
think of the delight of overcoming them, of 
the nobleness of triumphing over obstacles, 
foreign, and in your own character, all rivalry, 
opposition. The lofty purpose rises from your 
heart. The blood rushes to your cheek. Your 
eye flashes. The determined " I will " is upon 
your lips as your closed hand strikes the table. 
After a good resolution has been made, a calm- 
ness, a self-satisfied serenity usually succeeds. 
So with you, and the pleasing feeling in your 
mind suggests a pleasing idea. Another and 
another follows. In imagination you are not so 
much a great as a happy man. You are very 
happy now. You commence humming a tune. 



87 

Your glad feeling increases. Your humming 
becomes singing. You start from your seat 
with an intention to suit the action to the word, 
and your great folio, which was just supported 
on the edge of the table by your hand, falls to 
the floor. The sudden loud noise arrests your 
attention. You stop short. The merry sound 
dies on your lip. You look grave, pass your 
fingers through your hair, strike your hand on 
your forehead, take up your book, seat yourself, 
and are soon intent again. See, I have traced 
your progress through a reverie. You talk of 
building mud hovels. I don't believe a word 
of it. You see what I imagined for you was a 
regular built castle. I let you first engage in 
the nobler part of the superstructure, till you 
gazed upon the lofty columns, the high arches, 
and all the fine proportions of the grand edifice, 
with something very like admiration, Then I 
let you plant the flowers in your gardens, fur- 
nish and adorn your parlor, and your music 
room would have been all completed if the 
unlucky book had not fallen. There was no 
mud-walled hovel at all, (unless indeed you did 
build one while you were scratching your head 
and pounding your forehead, and that was time 
enough, for it never did take so long to build a 
cabin as a castle.) And if I were you, my dear 



88 

■' , I never would build another hovel as long 

as I lived, for I know you was never born to 
dwell in one. I expect better things of you. 

In truth, — , you have as good materials for 

building a fine edifice as any man I know of. 
Your superstructure would be sufficiently ele- 
gant, and if you could only be persuaded to 
build on " the sure corner stone," " the only 
foundation," I should have no fears for you. 
But I must confess I cannot bear to have my 

dearest entering upon the responsibilities 

and duties of an active life, with fine talents, an 
excellent education and popular manners, all 
calculated to extend his influence, and no estab- 
lished religious character. Vital piety alone can 
give your other numerous desirable qualifications 
their true value. * * * * 



My Dear Brother:— 

* * It is good when we enter on 
a new year to look back and observe our im- 
provement or delinquency, to examine both our 
intellectual and moral character. What new 
ideas have we gained ? What clear views have 
we had of subjects concerning which we knew 
little or nothing before ? What good habits of 



89 

thought and study have we acquired ? What 
faults have we overcome ? How have we 
benefited our associates ? And how have we 
been enabled to elevate our standard of moral 
excellence ? 

Few persons enter upon a new year without 
making sage reflections upon the days gone by, 
and many good resolutions for the time to come. 
But too often the impression made by these 
reflections is quickly worn off, and even the 
good resolutions are so soon forgotten that they 
exert no permanent influence upon the char- 
acter. The reason of this perhaps may be, that 
persons, when they reflect upon past errors, do 
not look back far enough ; they think of their 
faults, but do not think sufficiently of what led 
them first to make a false step. And when 
they make resolutions for the future, they do 
not begin immediately to act. There is more, 
I believe, in reviewing the past and noticing 
the circumstances that led us to commit a fault, 
than we are generally apt to imagine ; as we 
learn by this means to avoid temptation. And 
if we know that we are too weak to contend, is 
it cowardly to fly from moral danger ? But if 
it is impossible for us to escape temptation, we 
must contend with it, and contend manfully, not 
yielding in the least, for if we yield at all, we 
8 



90 

shall soon lose our ground entirely, but in every 
new victory we shall acquire new strength. * * 



My Dear E. :— 

I am extremely obliged to you for 
the kind note that I received from you the other 
day. * * We have all of us been sick with 
colds ever since you went away. * * When 
M. and C. were here we entertained them with 
(that most melodious of unwritten music) our 
coughing. I hope you did not make yourself 
sick when at S. B., but have returned with 
renewed health and strength to your studies. I 
want to know how you succeed at school this 
term, whether you still continue to be No. 1. 
You know that is the rank that young ladies, 
with your peculiar advantages, ought always to 
occupy. The world, generally, is very careless 
about improvement. We are all apt to examine 
very minutely the character, and employ our 
time in idle speculation upon the conduct of 
others, while we forget ourselves. People are 
very selfish about minor things, while they are 
extremely disinterested about that which most 
intimately concerns them. They strive to se- 
cure to themselves all the pleasure, the show 



91 

and the attention that they can ; but they are 
quite apt to relax their endeavors in securing to 
themselves intrinsic, sterling worth. It is a good 
plan, while securing an education, to have 
definite views of what we wish to accomplish — 
of the character we wish to make for ourselves. 
Consider your physical, intellectual, and moral 
character separately. 

In pursuing your physical education, consider 
your health and strength. Both these are ne- 
cessary to usefulness and enjoyment. And both 
these, by care and attention, may, in early life, 
be wonderfully improved. Then your bodily 
habits — those that affect so materially the ap- 
pearance of young ladies, are, in pursuing your 
physical education, all to be attended to. 

As it regards your intellectual education, I 
would recommend, in the first place, that you 
study well your intellectual philosophy. Learn 
from that, as well as you can, the nature of the 
various powers of the mind. Then look care- 
fully into your own mind, and see how each 
power exists there. Examine separately your 
powers of attention, of abstraction, of memory, 
of reasoning, of imagination, &c. I repeat, 
examine each of them separately ; find out 
which most needs cultivation ; ascertain the 
best means of improving it, and proceed ac- 



92 

cordingly. But do not forget that you must be, 
all this time, collecting all the facts and all the 
general information that you can; and, in order 
to do this, you must be very observing. I am 
more and more convinced, dear E., that at our 
time of life, nothing can be more useful than 
habits of observation, and of reflection as con- 
nected with our observations. But especially 
we must make our observations upon individual 
characters — not to tell of them, (for that would 
cultivate a scandalizing disposition,) but to re- 
flect upon when alone and to improve ourselves 
by. 

The improvement of the moral character is 
the most important part of education. I wish I 
had time to scribble long here, but I have not 
time. It is good to reflect upon our duties to 
every individual of our acquaintance. We 
know what the cardinal virtues are. It is good 
to reflect upon these separately, and to see how 
far we possess them. We may, as many others 
do, attend to our duties to others and to our- 
selves, but let us not forget our duty to God. 
Without love to God, all physical and intel- 
lectual attainments are as nothings ; with this, 
the value of all else we possess will be infinitely 
enhanced. Take care then that you possess it* 
By reading of the Scriptures, and by prayer, 



93 

take care that you do not let the best of all 
blessings slip from you. 

My dear girl, when I commenced I intended 
to write only a few lines, but I have continued 
to write on, forgetting that it might not please 
you so much to read as me to write. Forgive 
me my long sermon. Your improvement is, 
you know, a most interesting subject, and when 
by accident I touched upon it, my pen would 
fly. Your sincere friend and cousin. 



March 1, 1833. 

* * Friend — why, it is the best, the dearest 
word in our language. Did you ever think of 
the many qualities it includes ? the candor, 
confidence, patience, forbearance, and a thou- 
sand other things which I sum up in two words, 
sincere affection ? After defining the sweet 
little word for myself, and making it mean just 
as much as it will mean, may I apply it to you ? 
May I call you, " My dear good friend ?." * * 



Sept. 27, 1833. 

* * You ask me if I ever look forward to 
the time when I shall appear in print as an 

8 * 



94 

authoress. What a strange question for you to 
ask me ! I have no such expectations. I 
should almost as soon think of wielding the 
sceptre of England, as of wielding the pen of 
an authoress. Once I used to imagine that I 
might some day write. But those dreams are 
all over now. I am engaged to a minister, and 
of course have no right to expect leisure to 
attend to literary pursuits, excepting now and 
then by way of recreation. If I aspired to be 
a literary character, it would be necessary for 
me to remain single always, or else I must be 
rich. However, though I do not expect to be 
learned or an authoress, I do not expect to be 
an ignoramus. * * 



Jan. 16, 1834. 

* * I wish it was the fashion to write 
letters with a lead pencil. 1 always fancy I can 
write much better with a pencil than in any 
other way. My ideas flow as freely again. 
And then there are no blots, and I should not 
ink my fingers. I never could bear to be a 
slave to a goose-quill, and if ever I am meta- 
morphosed into an authoress, I'll make plum- 
bago fashionable, so that members of the blue 



95 

sisterhood shall never more be recognized by 
inky thumbs and fingers. 



May 13. 

* * I saw in the newspaper of Saturday 

last, a notice of the death of Miss , and 

I don't know when I have heard any piece of 
news that has made me feel more sad. When 
we were all together here, our prospects of life 
were no better than hers. And yet we have 
been spared to enjoy life and each other's soci- 
ety ; to improve our characters and be useful, 
while she is in eternity. When shall it be said 
of either of us, " He is dead," " She is dead ? " 
* * How different would be our treatment of 
our friends and acquaintance if we should 
always see written on each of their foreheads — 
" I shall die soon"? We know it is as true 
that they must die soon as if it were thus en- 
graved on their foreheads ; but we, stupid, 
thoughtless creatures, seldom think of it. Ima- 
gine that whenever you saw a parishioner you 
saw those awful words plainly legible on his 
forehead, don't you think you should be very 
faithful ? * * 



96 



Aug. 8, 1833. 
* * I have been very much interested of 
late in reading Paul's Epistles. I am sure they 
contain enough of what we call sound Orthodoxy 
to establish its truth. How a person who reads 
them carefully and believes in their inspiration 
can place faith in Unitarian doctrines, is more 
than I can understand. Paul indeed wrote, as 
he preached, " nothing but Jesus Christ and 
him crucified." The atonement is the great 
doctrine, and the presentation of no other can 
be equally effectual. It is a doctrine we ought 
to reflect much upon, because pride so inclines 
us to look at our good works, and persuades 
us to climb up to heaven by our own strength. 
I am convinced that there is no grace we 
need so much as humility. When this glorious 
doctrine has thoroughly taught us the sweet 
lesson of humility, it will cause our hearts to 
overflow with love for that Saviour who shed 
his blood for our redemption, and we shall catch 
a portion of his spirit of expansive and uni- 
versal benevolence. I wish you would preach 
often upon the character and offices of Christ. 
Is it not him you were sent to preach ? And 
will not such preaching be most useful ? Dwell 
upon the surprising love of Christ until you 



97 

make sinners shudder at their own ingratitude, 
and excite Christians to more active zeal in 
their Master's service. * * 



July 21, 1834. 

* * Finely turned periods may please the 
ear ; elegant metaphors may gratify the taste ; 
lofty thoughts delight the imagination, and clear 
philosophical arguments convince the under- 
standing ; but it is the simple doctrine of the 
cross — the surpassing love of Christ, that reaches 
the heart and converts the soul. * * 



March 1, 1833. 

* * When you are performing the sacred 
services of the sanctuary, my prayers are always 
with you ; and they are, not that you may 
astonish by a wonderful display of sagacity and 
talent, but that you may do good to poor per- 
ishing souls, and that God would bless all your 
efforts to convert them. * * 



Feb. 10, 1833. 

* * The meetings which I told you, in my 
last, were anticipated, have past, and they ex- 



98 

eeeded, in interest, any thing I ever knew. 
The meetings were intended only for the church, 
and oh, how faithfully were we dealt with. 
We never knew such a season before. I am 
sure I never before despised and abhorred my- 
self as I then did. How wicked, how impious 
for me to live as I have done and yet call my- 
self a friend of God. Wednesday afternoon 
we renewed the covenant and partook of the 
sacrament, and then, I trust, I gave myself to 
God more unreservedly and entirely, than I 
ever have done before. When we profess that 
we are Christians, do we not profess that we 
have given up ourselves wholly and entirely to 
the service of God ; and if there is any thing 
that we keep back, are we not, like Ananias 
and Sapphira, lying to the Holy Ghost ? I do 
think that if we are not anxious above all things 
to discover the path of duty, and then deter- 
mined to walk in it, cost us what it may, we 
have no right whatever to hope that we are 
Christians; and, however good our standing may 
be in the visible church, we are nothing better 
than self-deceivers and hypocrites. * * Do 
be faithful to Christians. The reform must 
commence with us. How can it be expected 
that unbelievers can be brought to attend to the 
subject of religion while they can look at pro- 



99 

fessors and say, u What do ye more than 
others ? " Display before Christians a very 
high standard of excellence ; fearlessly attack 
their commonest, every-day, darling sins. Do 
not suffer those who are set for the defence of 
the holy city to sleep on in the nonperformance 
of duty. Why, I should think that ministers 
would fear lest, when they urged upon the im- 
penitent the duty of becoming Christians, they 
would ask, " And when I have joined your 
ranks, can I sleep at my post as I see other 
Christians do ? " * * 



Abington, April 3, 1837. 

* * C, dear, although there are other ob- 
jects to which my heart clings with intense 
ardor of feeling, yet I love you dearly as ever. 
They know little of the nature of affection, who 
represent the human heart as having capacity 
to contain only just such a quantum of affection, 
which must be divided in just such proportions, 
and doled out among the dear ones with the 
greatest care for justice, since all that one re- 
ceives over and above his share, must be sub- 
tracted from the portion of the others ; and, if 
a new individual should come in as participant 



100 

in the golden treasure, all the first proprietors 
of the heart would be losers. What an abomi- 
nable doctrine is this, and how calculated to 
produce selfishness and jealousy, and to stop the 
generous flow of the affections. This, like all 
other absurd theories of the mind, grew up, 
probably, from comparing things together be- 
tween which no comparison could properly be 
instituted. Mind and matter cannot be com- 
pared, any better than color and sound. The 
more I love, the more I can love ; and the more 
I know, the more I can know. If this were not 
true, heaven would be but a dull place. But 
our God is infinite in love and in knowledge, so 
spirits in heaven may go on loving and learning 
through all eternity. The seraph will never 
find the bottom of his heart, nor the cherub the 
termination of his acquirements. This is the 
bliss of heaven. * * 

I do not wonder that you have been deeply in- 
terested [in theology], for, surely, to a reflecting, 
immortal being, no study can be so interesting 
as that which instructs us in the sublime truths 
of our holy religion. Alas ! that the study 
of theology is so grossly neglected. In our 
schools, our youth are instructed in almost every 
thing else ; while this study, which, considered 
merely in an intellectual point of view, I would 



101 

venture to say, is more profitable than any 
other, is passed entirely by. And even our 
churches are deplorably ignorant of divine truth. 
Few have clear, discriminating views of our 
system ; could give reasonable grounds for their 
belief, or defend it against a wily opponent. 
On this account Orthodoxy has sadly suffered, 
and errors of every kind and name have pre- 
vailed. * * 



Aug. 21, 1838. 

* * You ask me if you understood me to 
say, that my views of duty had not changed 
since I was a little girl. They certainly have 
changed' but slightly. For many years my 
principles and modes of feeling have been about 
the same. I think my views have enlarged, 
but they have hardly altered. I do not under- 
stand much about wavering and vacillating 
principles. A principle, seems to be something 
fixed. Every action must be squared according 
to the great law of love, and by examining an 
action by the law, we cannot help seeing its 
moral character. The difficulty is, C, we are 
too apt, when the question of duty arises, in- 
stead of carefully and candidly comparing the 
action with the great law, to be influenced by 
9 



102 

prejudice, feeling, the opinions of others, or 
false notions of expediency. No, coz, the line 
between right and wrong is palpable and dis- 
tinct. God has created no confusion here. 
And that we might be entirely without excuse, 
he not only has written the law upon our hearts, 
and given us reason and conscience, but we 
have also the law in the Bible, accompanied 
with the kind words, " If any man lack wisdom, 
let him ask of God, who giveth to all men libe- 
rally and upbraideth not, and it shall be given 
him." * * 



Abington, Feb. 22, 1837. 
Mv Dear Brother : — 

* * Speaking of opinions — I do think 
it very important that you should have well- 
grounded opinions of your own upon all subjects 
of popular interest. I wish my brothers to be 
of the feiv who give the tone to public senti- 
ment, rather than of the multitude who are led 
hither and thither by the popular voice. The 
popular voice — What is it ? Why, one-half 
of the party express an opinion because they 
suppose the other half to hold it." Many of the 
other half embrace and hold it, out of com- 



103 

plaisance to the first half. The leaders are 
guided by prejudice and self-interest, and few 
or none see clearly the reason of the thing. 
Verily, in this world, "the blind lead the blind." 
I pry thee, good brother, let no man or body of 
men pull thee about by the nose, but upon 
every subject think for thyself. You will soon 
be twenty-one, and then, as a citizen of these 
United States, you will be one of our rulers. 
Every voter is a ruler, and therefore, should 
have a clear and thorough acquaintance with 
our system of government and all our political 
relations. The science of political economy 
too, he should well understand. Subjects of 
general interest and conversation, such as the 
Texian war, our relations with Mexico, slavery, 
free trade and the system of duties, banks, the 
paper and the gold currency, &c. &c, should 
be carefully revolved in your mind, and you 
should form opinions concerning them, laying 
aside every prejudice and self-interested view, 
and regarding only truth and the general good. 
Merchants cannot usually command a great deal 
of time for literary pursuits, but they can and 
must, in the course of their business, acquire 
habits of thought and an excellent judgment, 
which, if they apply to subjects of general 
interest, with a view to the general good rather 



104 

than individual profit, they will ever be re- 
spected as men of enlarged minds. Merchants 
too, are generally the patrons of literature and 
science. Like Roscoe, they may often see ' the 
tide of wealth flowing only in the channels of 
traffic, and divert from it invigorating rills to 
refresh the garden of literature.' My brother 

means to be a rich man, I suppose. Well, 

be rich, but don't, if you would have a capa- 
cious mind, or an unblemished moral sense, 
seek for riches as an end, but as a means. A 
man who regards money as an end, is a wor- 
shipper of mammon, and " no man can serve 
God and mammon." He has such an insatiable 
thirst for wealth, that he will do almost any 
thing to gratify it. True, he would not steal, 
or defraud in a bargain, if a sensible man, be- 
cause, by so doing, he would, in the end, defeat 
his object. But he would traffic in the souls 
and bodies of men, that is, be a slave-dealer ; 
or in deadly poison, that is, be a rum-seller ; or 
he would cheat his country by smuggling, or 
profane God's holy day by attending to week- 
day business therein. I beseech you, dear 
brother, as you value a sister's love, your own 
eternal well-being, and your duty to your Maker, 
never seek money as an end. But seek money 
as a means — as a means of doing good ; and 



105 

you will not then swerve from the right path. 
Feel that your Maker has given you excellent 
business talents, and that you are bound in duty 
to acquire wealth, and to spend that wealth in 
doing good ; not to acquire a comfortable and 
respectable competence, but to acquire just as 
much property as you righteously can, and 
spend it in his service. The service he re- 
quires of you is, to do good to your fellow 
creatures. Feel that every individual of the 
human race is your neighbor, and that you are 
bound to love your neighbor as yourself. View 
the misery, the ignorance, and the sin, which 
cover with a black pall so large a portion of our 
brethren, and you will see at once what use 
God wishes rich men to make of their money. 
Oh what noble motives you have before you to 
stimulate you to acquire property and influence. 
You can be a philanthropist on the grandest 
scale. Be such, my brother. At once conse- 
crate your talents, yourself, every thing you are 
and hope to be to the service of your God, and 
live for him. Look around upon the great 
family of man, and, no matter how low or de- 
graded they may be, say, " They are my 
brethren," and live to ameliorate their condition, 

to make them good and happy. Scorn the 
9# 



106 

base, sordid, selfish views of the great portion 
of men of business, and be — a Christian. * * 



Sodth Berwick, June 25, 1833. 
My Dear Sister : — 

* * Many beautiful articles of dress 
may be procured in P., but while you are there, 
I want you to try very hard to obtain the dress 
of " Humility," " the inward adorning of the 
mind, and the ornament of a meek aud quiet 

spirit." Be sure, my dearest , they are all 

worth possessing. The dress is fadeless and 
spotless ; " the adorning " spoken of, is more 
beautiful than that of ribbons or roses, and " the 
ornament " is more valuable than fashionable- 
agate or brilliant diamond ; and then, if you 
once possess them, you need never lay them 
aside, for each day you will like them better 
and better, and they will continue to grow more 
beautiful and fashionable through the endless 
ages of eternity. 

* * It is now being decided whether you 
are to be a gay rlutterer, a mere butterfly, or a 
useful member of society. I want you to 
reflect what it is to be a gay flutterer, and what 
it is to be a useful member of society, and then 



107 

think which of these you are most likely to 
become. And I want you to think what you 
have done that you would like to remember a 

hundred years from now. And, , could you 

bear to think the same thoughts over again a 
hundred years hence, which this very day have 
occupied your mind. Reflect a great deal, my 
dear . Never act thoughtlessly. Remem- 
ber that you are not a mere bird to fly about 
here and there, and to be admired for showy 
plumage, but that you are a reasonable being, 
and bound to cultivate your reasoning faculties 
to the extent of your ability ; that you are not 
a mere insect to flutter and amuse yourself for 
a day, but that you are an immortal being, des- 
tined to enjoy an eternity of bliss or to suffer 
interminable wo. 

Perhaps you may think, , that I am too 

serious with you, and that my letter is too grave 
to be entertaining. It may be so, but I do not 
think it right to trifle youth all away, seeking 
for nothing but entertainment. And you must 
learn to think it of very little consequence 
whether you are amused, provided you can be 
made better — provided you can be made to think 
upon a useful subject seriously for yourself. 
* * I want you to be happy as long as you 
live, and when you die, to be happy in another 



108 

world. The happiness that I speak of is not 
dependent upon circumstances, but it must 
dwell in the heart, and if you will read your 
Bible carefully you will learn how to attain it. 



Abington, Jan. 20, 1835. 
My Dear Sister: — 

* * How should you like to live on 
as we do, day after day in the same way, and 
find our only or principal amusement in books 
and each other's society. Now we like this 
well. We say it is truth as well as poetry, 

" If solid happiness we prize, 
Within ourselves the jewel lies, 
And they are fools who roam." 

Do you believe this doctrine ? The way to be 
really happy, is, I opine, to secure the pearl of 
great price, and then to cultivate one's intel- 
lectual, moral and religious character to the 
highest degree possible, and then one will be 
exceedingly happy, and that too without much 
care or pains. Some people labor very hard for 
happiness. They are asking continually, " Who 
will show us any good ? " They devote set 
times to pleasure, invent amusements, and, after 



109 

all their labor and toil to be happy, they are 
still restless and discontented. I wonder what 
the difficulty is. You try and see if you can 
think. * * 



April 1, 1836. 
Dear Sister : — 

* * Labor hard at school, and en- 
deavor to secure a sound education. Remember 
that your time is very precious, and do not let 
parties, dress and beaux draw your attention 
from sober realities. Remember that life is 
short, and that now is your best time, I had 
almost said your only time, to secure a Christian 
and a useful character. Dear , do, I be- 
seech you, beware of those youthful vanities 
that drown so many souls in perdition. Make 
it your first concern to consecrate yourself en- 
tirely to your Maker, and acknowledge him in 
all your ways. Oh how I should hate to see 
my beloved sister a proud, vain and trifling 
woman, living for herself and worldly enjoy- 
ment, and forgetful of the dear Saviour who 
died for her. Nothing will give such consis- 
tency to your character, solidity to your judg- 
ment, and power to your intellect, as religion, 



110 

and nothing can make you so truly lovely and 
entirely happy. That you may seek this price- 
less pearl, and obtain it too, is the sincere prayer 
of your most affectionate Sister. 



Abington, May 15, 1839. 

* * With regard to your affairs, my sweet 

, I suspect, from all that I can make out, 

that you are engaged, or what amounts to the 
same thing. Well, be it so, if the man you 
love is worthy of you and will make you happy. 
As old Mrs. C. says, " It is a great thing to have 
the offer of a man," but it is still greater to 
keep a man's affection and respect. If you are 
looking forward to matrimony, I hope you will 
make the period of your engagement a time of 
sober reflection. Study well the nature, weight 
and obligation of your future duties. Make it 
a point to become as well acquainted as possible 
with the character of your intended ; study your 
own, and compare them. This will have an 
excellent effect upon your future character. 
You will see where opposite traits in each other 
may be made to operate to advantage, the one 
being an offset to the other ; and where it will 
be necessary to guard against the development 



Ill 

and operation of an excess of the same quality 
in both. Sometimes two persons are married 
who are both somewhat inclined to extrava- 
gance. This trait was hardly noticed before 
marriage, as the individuals were not under 
those influences that would favor its develop- 
ment. But after marriage they cherish each 
other's infirmity. It increases and brings them 
to ruin. Had they, previous to marriage, mu- 
tually discovered this trait of character, they 
would, probably, have guarded against it, and 
thus saved themselves much misery. And 
I have seen two persons connected, both of 
whom were cursed with the opposite trait. 
They were rich, mean, and miserable. Whereas, 
had one of them possessed nobleness of soul, 
or had they both, in early life, seen each other's 
fault and striven to correct it, they would have 
made themselves incomparably happier and more 
respectable. It has been said that love is blind. 
Alas for the human family that it has too often 
been so. I trust that the little Cupid ■ that at- 
tends upon your ladyship, keeps his peepers 
wide open. You know love includes compla- 
cency and benevolence. Of these, the latter 
element is by far the nobler. It seeks the best 
good of its object. And an improvement of 
character is certainly the best good. And, , 



112 

my love, you must find out all the little tastes 
of your intended, for the happiness of life de- 
pends upon little things. And learn to sympa- 
thize. 'Tis said marriage is a lottery, (it is 
false though,) may yours be a high prize. * * 



Abington, April 8, 1840. 
My Dear :— 

It seems to be fated that I shall not 
write to you, however much I may wish it. I 
have appointed a great many hours to be devoted 
to you, but something has always occurred to 
prevent. This morning I commenced a letter 
to you and was getting on nicely with it, when 
I had occasion to leave the room for a penknife, 
and, returning, I found that my little Susy had 
mounted the table, upset the inkstand, and 
thoroughly blackened my sheet, together with 
her mischievous fingers, pretty face, and white 
tire. Such are the comforts of matrimony. 
To such sad accidents are the married exposed. 

Alas, for myself, alas, for thee, sweet . I 

have thought a great deal about you, my dear 

, if I have not written. You can hardly 

think how much I have to do. I am obliged 
to keep constantly employed, but my duties are 



113 

all pleasant, performed for those I love. " Love 
sweetens every toil," and throws a glad radiance 
around things which would otherwise seem 
gloomy or dull. To put knee-pieces in an old 
pair of pantaloons, darn children's stockings, 
make bread, prepare questions for my intellec- 
tual philosophy class, or attend a prayer meet- 
ing, would hardly seem to you (in the excite- 
ment of the city) like pleasures, but they are 
each in their turn sources of pure happiness to 
me, and I feel the need of no other amuse- 
ments. All happiness that is worth the name, 
is the fruit of love, and wherever that may be 
exercised there is happiness — the true romance 
of life. 

Well, dear, what kind of a wife do you 

make ? 'Tis a very sober, solemn thing, to be 
a wife, and she who lovingly, thoughtfully says, 
" my husband," feels a weight of responsibility 
that the unmarried or giddy never dream of. 
To be a wife, is to have the happiness, the repu- 
tation, the character, the temporal and eternal 
well being of a husband — of the best and dear- 
est friend, almost entirely in one's hands. And 
the good wife must never be guided by impulse 
or her own wishes. Oh no, the moment she 
begins the married life, she must begin to rea- 
son upon every thing she contemplates perform- 
10 



114 

ing. If she wishes to try any particular amuse- 
ment or pleasure, she will ask herself such 
questions as these : How will it affect my hus- 
band's happiness ? * * How will it affect his 
reputation ? * * his moral character ? * * 
Will it increase his wealth or respectability, or 
will it give him a higher seat in heaven ? Do 

not think I am too serious, dear , I would 

not for the world abridge your happiness, but 
I would have you seek your happiness in intel- 
lectual pursuits and active benevolence, rather 
than in vain amusements ; for while the latter 
degrade and contract the soul, the former en- 
noble, expand, exalt and fit it for heaven. 

After marriage, if affection exists, there is 
always a mutual assimilation of character. If 
you are a devoted Christian, you will naturally 
excite your husband to every good word and 
work, and you will together go on from strength 
to strength rejoicing. But if you are a worldly, 
fashionable, gay woman, your husband will be 
very apt to become a worldly man, mainly anx- 
ious to accumulate property, for his dear wife to 
spend in fashionable folly and extravagance. If 
your husband is a Christian, thank God, no one 
can keep him from heaven ; but a beloved 
worldly woman may exert such an influence 
on him through life, that he shall finally be 



115 

saved so as by fire, and have a low seat in 

heaven. Oh, , as you value your own and 

your husband's eternal interests, consider these 
things. * * 

I must give you a little more advice. Love 
your husband dearly ; you can't love him too 
well. Sympathise with him in every thing that 
concerns him, and avoid, if you can conscien- 
tiously, all pursuits and amusements in which 
he feels no cordial interest. Let him know all 
your thoughts and feelings. Begin by having 
no secrets. Keep nothing from him. If you 
happen to do any thing or say anything which 
you think he would not quite like, be sure to 
tell him of it directly — before he finds it out. 
If he ever looks displeased with you for any 
thing, never attempt to justify yourself or make 
excuses, but, with a sweet smile and a sweet 
toned voice, candidly admit your error and beg 
pardon. Ask his opinion and advice about your 
own little affairs. It will interest him more in 
you, and make you more one. Let him see 
that you always respect him and consider him 
as your superior. He will respect you the more. 
A woman never appears so little as when she 
tries to stand on the same footing as her hus- 
band. " Wives see that ye reverence your hus- 
bands," is excellent apostolic advice. You may 



116 

find fault with your husband as much as you 
can. It will do him good. But always do it 
when in the exercise of the most affection, in a 
tender, respectful manner, and never directly 
after he has found fault with you. We all 
have faults, and, in the married life, when these 
are not noticed, love has become indifference ; 
when noticed with unkindness and asperity, it 
has changed to dislike or hatred ; but when no- 
ticed tenderly, with a desire to eradicate them, 
love performs her highest office, and is exalted 
and mutually increased. * * 



The short, undated extracts that follow, indi- 
cate her feelings towards her parents, brothers 
and sisters. 

* * I received father's letter last week, for 
which I was very grateful, though I feel that 
I cannot be sufficiently grateful for the great 
kindness he has ever shown me, and the inter- 
est he still continues to feel for me, when I am 
no longer actually under his care. Dear father, 
dear mother, I can only love you. * * 



* * By the way, mother, I think there is 
hardly a person in the world, that owes so vast 



117 

a debt of gratitude to the " Giver of all mer- 
cies/' as I do, especially for the many good, 
kind, true-hearted, and affectionate friends that 
He has bestowed upon me. I can look around 
me and see many who are almost alone in the 
world, with hardly any one to love them or to 
receive their affection. Why has my lot been 
made to differ from that of these individuals ? 
Why has he give me such dear, excellent pa- 
rents, so many affectionate brothers and sisters, 
so kind a husband, and a heart capable of appre- 
ciating and deriving rich and lively happiness 
from their affection. Surely God has been 
very, very good to me. * * 



* * Being left entirely alone the latter part 
of the evening, my thoughts naturally reverted 
to past enjoyments, and then ran along into the 
future, and I could not help shedding tears at 
the thought, that though I had passed so many 
happy hours, days and years with you, yet, in 
future, I should probably be almost always away 
from you, and never be with you more, except 
for a few days at a time. Was not this a very 
sad, unpleasant thought ? I never realized it as 
I did then. It is, mother, this breaking up of 
10* 



118 

families and severing closest ties, is a dreadful 
thing. Dear parents, dear brothers and sisters, 
I shall never be with you again as once I was ; 
but, let me tell you who remain at home, in the 
rich enjoyment of reciprocated love, in a situa- 
tion where you may be exceedingly happy, 
father, mother, brothers and sisters, " be kindly 
affectioned one towards another ; " let perfect 
love reign throughout the family circle ; let 
there never be heard a single harsh word to 
make a jar or discord, but let each one strive to 
make every other member of the family per- 
fectly happy, for you cannot always live to- 
gether ; — keep it in mind — you cannot always 
live together ; and sometimes think of Hetta, 
and forgive her when you recollect the instances 
when she did not conduct as a good daughter 
and sister should have done. Be sure she is 
very sorry for them now. 

But though I think so much about you all, I 
would not have you suppose that I am not 
happy here, for I am so, and cannot regret, for 
a single moment, that I married, although my 
marriage forced me to quit my dear home. 
A person cannot expect in one situation the 
joys of all others. * * 



119 

* * How rich a blessing it is to have so 
kind and sympathizing a parent, one who, 
though I am far away, does still, I know, feel 
for me and pray for me, and to whom I can 
freely communicate all my hopes and fears, joys 
and sorrows ; and the first feeling I would ex- 
press is one of gratitude to God, that I was 
brought into the world by such a mother. Yes, 
dear mother, such thoughts and feelings as these 
I often have, and it is very sweet to cherish 
them. I often think over, individually, all the 
mothers I ever knew, and then wonder how I 
came to be so blessed as to be boru of that one, 
the most tender, devoted and self-sacrificing of 
them all. * * 



* * How happy I should be, if I could be 
where I could enjoy more of my sweet mother's 
society. I did not realize how much I had to 
relinquish when I left my mother, but I often 
think now how much you used to enjoy with 
grandma', and it makes me sigh; but I will 
not repine. I have a great deal to be thankful 
for, infinitely more than I deserve. My cup of 
bliss is very full. * * 



120 

* * It is and has been out of the question 
for me to visit you this fall, though I cannot 
tell how much I have wished it, and here we 
must all snuggle down, (there is, alas ! no other 
way,) like squirrels in their holes, until next 
spring, and then we will crawl out ; and when 
it comes fine weather, you shall see us all at 
home, for Ave will shut up our house and ap- 
pear about you — husband and Lizzy, baby and 
I — all ten times more joyous than those blithe 
little creatures that all this winter will sleep 
quietly in their holes, and, next summer, may be 
seen gliding along on the fence-tops, or leaping 
so gaily from one green branch to another. * * 



* * We are continually talking of our late 
pleasant visit, and are constantly reminded, by 
many tokens of your kindness, of our beloved 
mother. You cannot imagine — for yon never 
were situated as I am — how delightful it is to 
visit a kind father's house ; to be welcomed 
by the best and most affectionate parents, and 
warmly greeted by dearly loved brothers and 
sisters ; to renew childish feelings and associa- 
tions, and be for a few weeks a little girl again. 
Going home, to me, is really a recreation, for X 
become young again. * * 



121 



Sept. 28, 1835. 

* * Every day my Billy entwines himself 
closer and closer around my heart, and I feel 
more and more my great responsibility. Dear 
mother, you must pray for me and for him, and 
assist me by your good advice dictated by 
experience. We have tried to give him up 
entirely to God, and I try to have faith that our 
offering will be accepted. * * This afternoon 
I am going to attend, for the first time, the 
Maternal Association. I think I shall enjoy 
these meetings greatly, for I feel that I need 
much wisdom and much prayer to enable me to 
manage my dear boy aright, and bring him up 
for his God. * * 



Sept. 10, 1842. 

* * O dear mother, nobody but one who 
like you has had experience of the same, can 
imagine all the anxiety and solicitude that these 
little ones occasion. I wonder how you have 
lived through so much. I often feel, " Who is 
sufficient for these things?" It is a very con- 
soling thought, however, that the same Being 
who lays all these cares and responsibilities 
upon us, knows all our weakness and inadequa- 



122 



cy, and he has said, " As thy day is, so shall 
thy strength be." * * Dear mother, 1 hope 
you will be faithful in instructing your sweet 
little children in doct7*i?ial knowledge, as well as 
the practical duties of religion. I do feel more 
and more the importance of young persons 
becoming intimately acquainted with the funda- 
mental points of evangelical faith. Theology 
is the most sublime of sciences, and yet the 
humblest mind may be purified and exalted by 
the contemplation of its ennobling truths. If 
there is any thing in the world for which I have 
ever felt thankful, it is that like Timothy I 
received early instruction from my mother and 
grandmother. * * 



June 15, 1842. 

* * I was sorry to hear that Miss is 

so feeble. I think a great deal about her. Do 
encourage her to trust in Jesus. If he could die 
for a world that had been rebelling against him 
four thousand years, it is never too late, while a 
poor sinner is in this world, for Him to be 
merciful. * * 



123 



Feb. 11, 1840. 
My Dear Sister : — 

* * I should love to have you here 
Thursday evenings, for I have a delightful class 
of young ladies that assemble round my great 
table and receive instructions from your sage 
sister in intellectual philosophy. Then we 
have poetry and music. Fine times, I assure 
you. But I should really like for S. to see my 
pretty intelligent class. It is very pleasant to 
me to spend one evening in the week in this 
manner, and, the more so, because it obliges me 
to read some and think more, during the week, 
which is very agreeable. It is vastly important 
that young ladies should acquire intellectual 
tastes, and especially that they should be deeply 
interested in the contemplation and improvement 
of the immortal part of their being. Our poor 
worthless bodies will soon be food for worms, 
while our intellectual and moral natures will be, 
through eternity, strong to suffer or enjoy. 
Who then can describe the folly of those who 
are mainly interested in providing sensual grati- 
fications for the body, and decking it with 
ornaments. If I could lead any young persons 
to view this subject as I wish I had viewed it, I 
should be most happy. Dear E., I beseech you, 



124 

rise above the vanities of this world. Lay aside 
folly, vanity, selfishness, and become a sober, 
thoughtful, benevolent, happy Christian. * * 



125 



POETRY 



AN IMPROMPTU. 

Lizzy, awake, the morn is bright, 

Bid thy dull slumbers flee, 
The sky is tinged with golden light, 

Hie away to the woods for me ; 
And bring me back a wreath of flowers, 

A token that spring is near ; 
I long for green fields and leafy bowers, 

The winter's been long and drear ; 
Oh, bring me the sweet anemone, 

And bring me the violet blue, 
And bring me a branch from the holly tree, 

And let them be bathed in dew. 
Oh sweet is the fragrance of early flowers ; 

It steals o'er the present, and brings back the past, 
The spring of our childhood's happy hours, 

So bright and so sweet that they cannot last 



A PRAYER FOR MY SISTER. 

Kind heaven ! oh, hear my prayer for one. 
The sister of my love, 
11 



126 

And in her youth most graciously 
Smile on her from above. 

Oh, let thy Spirit with her dwell, 

Convince her of her sin, 
And, in her young and tender heart, 

The work of grace begin. 

Oh, may she kneel at Jesus' shrine, 
There consecrate her heart, 

And, of his full and sovereign grace, 
Receive a blessed part. 

Make her soul glow with ardent love 

To each created thing ; 
By active love, may she promote 

The honor of her king. 

In blessing others be she blest ; 

Be it her sweet employ, 
Through self-denials to augment 

The sum of human joy. 

Let every passion, impulse, wish, 
Bow to the will's stern nod; 

But let that will most sweetly yield 
To each command of God. 

Bar prejudice from out her heart ; 

Let reason guide aright, 
Give her a judgment strong and clear 

To make her pathway light, 



127 

Give her an ardent love for truth, 

An active, docile mind, 
A playful fancy, pleasant wit, 

And taste that's well refined. 

That beauty which so quickly fades 

I ask not for my love ; 
But on her brow let tranquil thought 

Sit like a peaceful dove. 

Let intellect beam from her eye, 

Let love illume her face, 
Let Christian courtesy impart 

To her each winning grace. 

Oh, grant her these, I'll ask no more 
High Heaven, direct her lot, 

Whate'er her outward state may be, 
I know it matters not. 

Let evils come, a fiery storm, 

Then, with a spirit pure, 
An active mind, and trust in God, 

Her bliss will be secure. 

And even death shall not alarm 

A spirit pure in love, 
She'll triumph in that darkest hour, 

Then soar to joys above. 



128 



A LULLABY TO WILLIAM. 

Hush, dearest love, and take thy rest, 
Let me not hear thy plaintive cry, 

Repose upon thy mother's breast, 
'Tis she that sings thy lullaby. 

Hush, sweetest boy, why shouldst thou weep ? 

I'm sure thou hast no cause to sigh, 
For here there is a fountain deep 

Of love for thee, — so lullaby. 

Be quiet, child, and then my prayer 
Shall rise for thee to God on high ; 

Full well He knows the mother's care, 
And He'll protect thee. Lullaby. 

He'll thee protect, for thou art given 
To Him who did for sinners die; 

Sure He will keep and raise to heaven 
What is His own, — so lullaby. 

£ I'll be a God to thee and thine,' 
Was said by Him who cannot lie ; 

I'll trust the promise so divine 
From our kind Father. Lullaby. 

And Thou, whose words are hope and joy, 

Bidding foreboding fears to fly, 
Oh, give me grace to guide my boy 

To Thee and heaven. Babe ! lullaby. 



129 



AN OBITUARY" NOTICE OF MRS. WARD, 
Written by a clerical friend and published soon after her death. 

The subject of the following notice was the 
eldest daughter of Hon. William A., and Susan 
Hayes, of South Berwick, Me. She was born 
April 10, 1815. She very early in life became 
a hopeful subject of renewing grace, and at the 
age of fifteen made a public profession of her 
faith in Christ. On the 9th of Sept., 1834, she 
was united in marriage with Rev. James W. 
Ward, of Abington, Ms., where she died Dec. 
11, 1842, aged 27 years. 

It is seldom that affection is called to mourn 

the departure of so many rare excellencies as 

centered in this Christian female. Her mind, 

originally of superior cast, was nurtured and 

developed by the best opportunities. Her 

father's family was a constant school for the 

intellect. With her parents she associated more 

as a companion than as a child, and was early 

led to the investigation of subjects which were 

beyond her years but within her comprehension. 

A literary lady who had the best opportunity to 

judge, once remarked respecting her, " that for 

intellectual endowments she ranked among the 

ten most distinguished females in this country." 
11 # 



130 

Though free to converse on all the higher topics 
of science, secular or sacred, it was not with an 
effort she did it, but with the ease of one who 
was borne along by the ordinary current of her 
thoughts, and always with that peculiar smile 
which indicates a consciousness of rectitude, 
and a love for the truth. There was also amia- 
bleness of disposition in connection with these, 
which mellowed them all into an example of 
true female dignity. This was an early charac- 
teristic, for it has been remarked by her father, 
that "she never did anything while in his 
family that called for correction from him, or 
that left on his mind an unpleasant recollec- 
tion." We seldom have met with one whose 
speech was so uniformly kind. " In her tongue 
was the law of kindness, neither was guile in 
her mouth." She saw things to commend in 
the character of others, as quick as some can 
see those to condemn. 

But it is her religious character which is most 
deserving of notice. She presents an instance 
of hopeful conversion in early life. She has 
been known to say that " she could not remem- 
ber the time when she did not, as she thought, 
find pleasure in religious company and conver- 
sation." Such cases do sometimes occur, and 
when they do, it is most usually in connection 



131 

with superior mental endowments. Doubtless 
a holy heart gives the most sure promise of 
superiority of mind. The fact that she could 
not fix upon the precise time of her hopeful 
conversion, sometimes gave her uneasiness of 
mind lest she had never experienced that radical 
change of heart which she believed to be essen- 
tial to secure peace with God hereafter. She 
often turned her eye inward to examine the 
state and movements of her own heart, to search 
and try her soul by the standard of divine truth. 
After her decease, the following prayer and 
resolutions, penned at the commencement of the 
last year of her life, were found among her 
papers. 

{ Almighty God, I am a poor miserable 
sinner. I have long pretended to serve thee, 
but I fear that I have often been, if not always, 
cold, hypocritical and faithless in my service of 
thee. But now, oh Lord God, it is my earnest 
desire to consecrate myself entirely to thee. 
Let me keep nothing back. Oh Lord, let me 
be wholly thine for time and eternity. Search 
me, oh God, and try me. Make thorough work 
in my soul. I want to live for nothing but thy 
honor and glory. I have been a half way 
Christian long enough. Thou knowest, oh 



132 

Lord, whether there be one spark of grace in 
my heart. If not, kindle there this night this 
sacred flame and let me feel thy love in my 
soul. Oh, give me more self abhorence on 
account of my sins, a firmer faith in Christ, and 
more ardent love for thee and thy cause. Help 
me now, I beseech thee, oh Lord, while I make 
new resolutions to serve thee, and give me 
strength, day by day, to adhere to them. 

1 1. I will endeavor, each day, to have a season 
for secret prayer and meditation ; and I will 
daily read the scriptures, examine myself, and 
renew my vows to God. 

1 2. I will struggle with my natural, wicked 
sloth, beginning each day early. 

1 3. I will endeavor to be systematic in every 
duty and to cultivate habits of order. 

1 4. I will struggle against absentmindedness 
and vain habits of reverie. 

'5. I will cultivate more firmness and con- 
sistency in the government of my children. 

' 6. I will avoid irritability of temper. 

' 7. I will be meek under reproof. 

'8. I will guard against the risings of pride 
and ambition. 

1 9. I will guard against personal vanity. 

1 10. I will endeavor to be faithful to the souls 
of those around me. 



133 

'11. I will cultivate conscientiousness in the 
disposal of my time. 

' 12. I will cultivate a habit of ejaculatory 
prayer. 

' 13. I will cultivate openness and truthfulness. 

1 14. I will avoid levity. 

' 15. I will cultivate a cheerful temper. 

'Now, oh Lord God, I would trust only to 
thee. Let thy Spirit abide in my heart, and 
give me grace and strength to keep these reso- 
lutions and live for thee. Without thy assist- 
ance I shall fall again. Let me take hold of 
thy hand, O Lord, and wilt thou lead me in a 
straight path.' 

Mrs. Ward furnishes an example of a pastor's 
wife. She was the companion of her husband, 
and sympathised with him most truly in all his 
pursuits and trials. She could accompany him 
over all the field of ministerial duty. Such 
was her love for the people of his charge, that 
she would often ask, " Is there not something 
more we can do for them." She was active 
and eminently useful in the weekly female 
prayer meeting and the maternal association. 
Besides, she was for some time the teacher of a 
class of young ladies in intellectual and moral 
philosophy, who met weekly at her house. 



134 

Her amiable Christian warnings, which fell on 
the minds of the impenitent around her, in the 
most opportune manner, cannot be easily for- 
gotten, now that she is gone. 

She loved the doctrines of the gospel with 
ever increasing attachment. They were not 
buried in speculations, nor darkly shadowed by 
ponderous human systems, but they lay in her 
mind like the pure revelations of God. While 
she paid suitable deference to the opinions and 
writings of the good and great, on the subject 
of religious faith, she called no man master, 
and bowed meekly, and only to God. This 
circumstance accounts for her strong confidence 
in God. Here she rested, and her heart was 
kept in perfect peace. From the delicacy of 
her physical organization, and the extreme sen- 
sibility of her nerves, she usually entertained 
great fears of death ; yet at the time when she 
was informed by her husband, that, in the opin- 
ion of the physician, she could live but a short 
time, her soul, strong in the faith of Christ, 
shook off its fears, and was never more serene 
than when speaking of her own dissolution. 
" I don't know," she said, "as I am a child of 
God ; the heart is deceitful, and I may be de- 
ceived, and think myself a Christian, when I 
am not j but then, if God should cast me off, I 



135 

think I should still wish to adore and praise 
him. It would be all right." When asked if 
she did not wish to recover, she replied, " I 
have some desire to live ; but still I would not 
for worlds wish the result to be different from 
what God sees best to appoint." Her children 
were mentioned, and the inquiry was made, 
" Do you not feel anxious on their account ? " 
" No," she replied, " I have consecrated them 
to God, and I fully believe he will take care of 
them and bring them into his fold." This un- 
shaken confidence in God gave to her soul a 
celestial dignity and a calm triumph over death. 
It was an abiding thing in her life. Her spirit 
was serene in all its lucid moments, but God 
saw fit to give the king of terrors not only 
power to kill, but to tear her body away by 
convulsions. Life continued to struggle with 
its last enemy till a quarter before ten o'clock 
on Sabbath morning, of the 11th of December, 
when her affectionate heart ceased to beat, and 
her soul fled as a bird from the hand of the 
fowler " to her mountain." 

A general gloom was felt throughout the 
town, when it was announced that Mrs. Ward 
was dead. The blow that fell upon the shep- 
herd smote with anguish every heart of his 
flock ; for they felt that in the death of his wife 



136 

they had lost a sister. There were many peo- 
ple from abroad at her funeral, and fourteen 
ministers were present to sympathise with their 
afflicted brother, and pay a tribute of affection- 
ate respect to the departed. She has left five 
little children, the eldest about seven years, and 
the youngest but a few weeks — a tender flock 
for this rude world, without a mother. 

11 The world is poorer when such spirits flee, 
They leave it desolate." 

Why, we are often disposed to ask, why must 
so much excellence be removed from earth ? 
But God has done it in righteousness. He had 
need of her. The ornament that shone so 
brightly here, is, we trust, transferred to some 
niche in the temple above. The sentiment 
often quoted was never more deeply felt than 
in respect to the subject of this notice : 

" The good die first, 
And they, whose hearts are dry as summer dust 
Burn to the socket." 



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